


The Hidden Doorway

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Love/Hate, Mystery, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-28
Updated: 2007-02-01
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ginny, Harry and Draco have been leading separate lives for years, but then a disturbing case involving mind manipulation brings them together. Rows break out, animosity and hatered grow, people die, and friendship is tested. In the midst of all that is it possible for romance between two unlikely people to bloom?





	1. Chapter 1: The Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Ronda's A/N : I had this idea for a story but wasn't sure how to write it. After countless pages of online conversation with my friend Kelly (kjcp) discussing plots, characters, and chapters we came up with what we both think will be a fantastic story. I am outlining the ideas, key plot points, and characterization and she is writing it. So, this is our story, please read and review. Enjoy.  


* * *

XXXXXXX

**THE HIDDEN DOORWAY**

XXXXXXX

**Chapter One: The Diagnosis**

XXXXXXX

Cecilia tossed and turned, her silky sheets getting tangled around her ankles.  Her pillow was wet, her blonde fringe stuck to her forehead, and her lips could taste the salty sweat that kept beading above her upper lip.  She had two different coloured eyes, one green, one hazel, but they were both shut tight, thick black eyelashes fluttering against her ashen cheeks.

Before she went to bed she performed her nightly rituals.  She locked and sealed her bedroom door and windows.  She recast the standard anti-Apparation wards that all single witches used and made a magical fire in the fireplace which cast orange light that danced over her room.  Two years ago she’d moved out of her father’s house in Manchester and into Muggle London.  The best flats were in London and nowhere close to Diagon Alley.  Cecilia protected her room like this because she didn’t trust Muggles.  There were crimes in her neighbourhood every night – crimes that seemed more heinous than even the things Voldemort had done.  

Inside her flat was very nice, filled with expensive things, but the flat itself, as well as the rest in the building, was cheap.  She’d felt a need to get away from her father’s money so she got a job at a clothing store in Diagon Alley and used most of her paycheck to let her flat.  She didn’t mind, though.  

Then, she plaited her blonde hair, used Lydia’s Luxuriously Lavish Lotion on her arms and legs to keep them baby-soft, and took a swig of sleeping potion.  The potion was the only way she could fall asleep lately.  She wanted to be able to just drift off, but her nerves never allowed her to.  For weeks she’d been having the most disturbing dreams, as though placed inside her head by someone else.  They made her uncomfortable, gave her headaches.  She could hardly stand for anyone to touch her anymore; everything, everyone made her anxious.  

At first when she fell asleep she would wake up in the morning feeling as though someone had watched her all night long.  She took down all of her pictures, paintings and pictures alike, because she couldn’t stand having their eyes on her.  After that, the dreams became more invasive.  Cecelia couldn’t understand why; it didn’t make sense.

Once she took the sleeping potion that night, her dreams were fitful, causing her to sweat and fling herself about the bed.  As suddenly as they came, her dreams went, as though ripped out of her head.

A moan vibrated in her throat as she felt a hand move from her knee up her thigh and across her stomach.  Fingers pinched her sides, pulled at her nightgown.  Sudden realisation flooded through Cecilia’s body and she fought to open her eyes.  Her heart stopped mid-beat and then began to pound in her chest.  Her body went into panic mode as she struggled.  Something was keeping her eyes shut.  Her hands – if she could _push_ the offending hands off of her – but they were limp by her side.  

It felt as though she had taken a Paralysis Draught; her entire body was stone.  

Something cold and thick pried her lips open.  Those offending, disgusting hands reached down and felt across the elastic of her knickers.  Cecilia screamed inside her head, felt the blood vessels at her temples pound.  She kept screaming, screaming, screaming, until nothing.  

Nothing.  She still couldn’t open her eyes or move, but she didn’t feel anything around her body, she felt alone in her room.  Her eyes opened for the briefest of moments and she turned over on her side, pulling the covers up over her again, steadying her breathing.  The nothingness was still there so she allowed herself to sleep.

 

XXXXXXX

Ginny rubbed her eyes and rotated her neck, hearing it crack.  The clock on her kitchen wall said it was half two.  In four hours she had to leave for work.  Dirty pots and pans littered her countertops from dinner (roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and homemade rolls) as well as a half-empty bottle of red wine and two glasses.  This was the last time she made dinner for a man when she had loads of work to do.

Dinner hadn’t been for just _any_ man, and that was the problem.  The man was Harry.  He was an addiction; Ginny didn’t know why she couldn’t escape him, but every time he had a bad day or week there she was, homemade dinner and wine to make him feel better.  Although tonight hadn’t been about his bad day.  It had been about work.  

They had been broken up for a while – a year, two years, who could keep track? – but somehow they always found a way to be around one another.  Ginny made it very clear the things she wanted from him, things he wouldn’t give her, and now she evaded all of his advances.  Friendship was important to Ginny; it was the glue that held her relationship with Harry together, but that’s as far as they went: Friendship.  

If Harry dated other girls, he didn’t tell Ginny about it and she rather preferred it that way.  She dated other guys and never uttered a word about it to her family.  Saying the word ‘date’ around her mother would just be setting herself up for a tirade about how she should be less evasive, more warm, outgoing.  _‘Men don’t want a woman who doesn’t need them.’_   There was always something wrong with her and lately it was her independence.  Ginny knew her mum loved her, but sometimes going home was more trouble than it was worth.

Ginny was a specialist at St Mungo’s.  She worked in Spell Damage, but in the division that was jokingly known as the Whodunit? Department.  The idiots who got hit by spells or drank potions that came to St Mungo’s without a clue as to what it was that made them swell up or turn purple or break out in orange boils.  Ginny assessed their symptoms, came up with the spell that did the damage, and then found the antidote that would turn them back to normal.

‘Oh, for Merlin’s sake!’ cried Ginny, slamming shut the file she had been flipping through and Banishing it to the stack of parchment and files in the living room.  Harry left her flat at nine o’clock and she’d been working ever since.

_‘If anyone can do it, you can,’_ Harry had said before he left, kissing her on the cheek and Disapparating back to the flat he shared with George.

‘I give up!’  Ginny got up and took the bottle of wine from the counter and walked down the hall into the bathroom.  The tiles were cold under her bare feet and she turned on the faucets and let the water run at full speed.  As the tub filled, Ginny took off her clothes and grabbed the bottle of bubble bath from underneath the sink.  She poured a generous amount of the lavender-smelling liquid into the tub; bubbles instantly formed.  

‘Ahh,’ Ginny groaned as she got into the tub.  The hot water relaxed her muscles, especially her feet which were perpetually sore from standing around St Mungo’s all day long.  The wine left a heavy aftertaste in her mouth as she drank directly from the bottle.  

Harry was an Auror, partners with Nymphadora Tonks, and had brought over a case that the Ministry wanted her help on.  Or several cases.  Several _potential_ cases.  

_‘We found a witch with definite spell damage, but we don’t know from what.  Tonks and I went through unsolved cases and found several open files that resemble this one.’_

Harry had handed her the notes on the witch found.  Ginny remembered her; she was still in the Spell Damage ward, unconscious.  The notes said that her house still had all of its wards and spells intact.  It didn’t look as though any of them had been taken down or put back up.  No one would be able to Apparate into her house and she wasn’t hooked up to the Floo Network.  Her friends contacted the Ministry after she’d been ‘missing’ for two days.  Harry and Tonks were sent to her house to undo the spells and unlock her doors.  They found her in her room, barely breathing, dried blood underneath her nose.  There were cuts on her thighs in the shapes of crescent moons from where she dug her nails into her flesh.

All of the case files Harry had given had the same similarities – victims found unconscious or hurt in their rooms, always in the morning, with any indication that anyone entered their rooms:  the doors were always locked with spells cast by the victim, none of the fireplaces were hooked up to the Floo Network, and any anti-Apparation wards were still intact.  

Not only had Harry asked Ginny to look through the medical files of those victims, but he had brought over all the unsolved Spell Damage files from St Mungo’s as well.  

_‘You’re a medical genius, Gin.  If anyone can figure out what kind of spells did this to that girl, and the other victims, it’s you.’_

Ginny ran her hands over her body and groaned again.  Damn Harry and his confidence in her.  One-hundred-twenty-six files and there only seemed to be four that were related.  But how they were related, Ginny had no idea.  The rest might have similar crime scenes, but the victims had nothing in common as far as their injuries went.  Ten of them were found unconscious, the rest were awake.  Four of those ten had the same injuries as the first case – blood from the nose, underneath the fingernails, cuts on their bodies from where fingernails dug into their skin.

But what was the connection?  What happened to them?  They were all witches from good families.  Their fathers were businessmen, worked for the Ministry.  Their mothers were Healers, professors, housewives.  They went to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Jitney Academy, an American school.  Nothing in their medical histories suggested any curses that were passed down.  None of the victims worked together or were friends.  They didn’t frequent the same restaurants or clubs to suggest a possible poisoning from eating the same foods or drinks.  So what was the deal?  What was wrong with them?  

Part of Healer training was to take an eight-week course on Muggle medicine.  Ginny thought long and hard about what she learned (and tried to forget) during those two months.  What kind of injury would cause bleeding from the nose like that?  What kind of—

Ginny sat up so quickly that water sloshed over the side, bubbles sliding across the tiled floor.

‘Oh my God,’ she said, standing up and grabbing a towel.  Not bothering to dry herself off, she padded down the hallway to her bedroom and grabbed a quill and a spare bit of parchment.  She wrote a note to Harry and attached it to Hyacinth, her barn owl.  

‘Take this to Harry,’ she said, opening up a window and shivering as the frosty air trickled into her bedroom.  Hyacinth hooted and nipped at Ginny’s fingers and took flight.  Ginny closed the window and locked it, blocking out any more offending winter wind from entering her room.  She wet her lips and made her way back to the bathroom to finish towelling off, thinking about the note.

_Harry – I think I figured it out_.

XXXXXXX

‘I’m not going to be able to make it to dinner,’ Ginny said as she signed a piece of parchment with DISCHARGE stamped at the top.

‘What are you on about?’  Helena tossed her black hair back and tapped her long nails against the wall as she leaned against her hand.  ‘Why?’

‘I have a meeting at the Ministry tonight.  I suppose no one bothered to check whether or not I was working a double-shift today.  Forgive me?  Please?’  Ginny looked up from the papers she was signing and gave Helena her best pleading-expression.

‘Oh, all right, but you owe me one.’

‘Of course.  Whatever you want,’ answered Ginny.  She handed the pieces of parchment back to the medi-wizard.  ‘Miss Barrows can go home, but make sure you give her the proper instructions for the potion I gave her.  If she doesn’t take it then those boils will keep erupting with blue pus.  And tell Mr Andrews that if I see him in here again with enlarged ears I’m going to report him to the Ministry for importing Gangulass flowers illegally.’  The medi-wizard nodded and walked down the hallway to the patient rooms.

‘Blue pus?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘And I know Mr Andrews has those flowers.  They’re the only thing that causes enlarged ears like that.’  

The two witches began walking down the corridor towards the stairs.  It was lunchtime and Ginny was starved.  She usually took her breaks with Helena.  They were both the youngest Healers employed by St Mungo’s, both having gone through their training school.  Helena was smart, but had a terrible bedside manner.  She spent most of her time concocting potions and draughts for the patients.  She was an expert, better than Severus Snape at potions, which Ginny had thought impossible.  

‘What’s the meeting about?  You’re not being arrested are you?’

‘What would I be arrested for?’ asked Ginny, opening the door to the staircase and allowing Helena to go through first.  ‘Being single too long?’  They began to climb the stairs up to the fifth floor.

Helena laughed heartily.  ‘Marriage isn’t all that great,’ she said, looking down at the ring on her finger.  ‘There are times when I just want to curse Marcus.  All we do is row and make up.’

‘Is that so bad?’

Helena shrugged.  ‘He has a tiny willy, so I get tired of the making up bit very quickly.’

Ginny’s eyes widened.  ‘His dangly bits are just that, _bits_?’

‘Ohh yes.  Which is why you should never get married to a man you haven’t slept with first.  Did you ever sleep with Harry?’

Ginny raised her eyebrows.  ‘You know I don’t talk about my personal relationships.’

‘You should.  Talking is good.’  Helena smiled, showing off perfectly white, but perfectly crooked teeth.  ‘I could talk all day about Marcus’ _bits_.’

Ginny laughed.  ‘Well, Harry and I have a complicated past.  He broke up with me when I was fifteen for a rather stupid reason.  Then we got back together a couple of years later and were together for two years, but I had to break things off.  He couldn’t commit the way I wanted him to commit.’

‘He’s a man.  He’s supposed to be afraid of commitment,’ said Helena, looking a bit bored.  She opened the door and walked into the tea room and hospital shop.

‘I want to get married, have kids, and Harry couldn’t even say he loved me.  He’s emotionally unavailable, y’know?’

Helena nodded.  ‘Right, of course.’

Ginny sighed.  ‘That’s all right.  I enjoy being single and dating different blokes.’

‘Look, the room’s full.  Why don’t you find us an empty table and I’ll get us something to eat.  Watercress sandwiches?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Ginny with a shrug.  She turned and went in search of two vacant seats.

XXXXXXX

The Ministry was almost completely empty when Ginny entered.  Since she was a visitor she had to go through the telephone booth entrance.  She got her badge: GINNY WEASLEY, IMPORTANT MEETING.  

Once inside the Atrium she made her way to the far side to get her wand checked.  She stepped up to the desk and held out her wand.  A wizard took it; he was older than her, but still young, with brown hair and nondescript features.  He placed her wand on what looked like a brass scale with only one bowl.  The instrument vibrated and made a whirring noise and as soon as it was done, a small piece of paper printed out.

‘Nine and one-fourth inches, rosewood, unicorn hair.’

‘Yes,’ answered Ginny.

‘What’re you here for?’

‘A meeting,’ said Ginny, taking back her wand and pointing at her nametag.

‘Well, have a nice night.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, turning towards the lifts.

‘It’s Leo.’

Ginny stopped and looked back.  ‘I’m sorry?’

‘My name.  It’s Leo.  So when you say “thanks” you can say, “Thanks, Leo.”’

‘Oh.  Right.’  Ginny blinked a couple of times in confusion.  ‘Um, have a nice night yourself ... Leo.’

Not wanting to be late for her meeting, Ginny quickly walked to the lifts.  She had no trouble finding the conference room in the Magical Law Enforcement Office.  Portraits of past Aurors lined the walls inside the room.  A long table with different coloured chairs stood in the middle of the room.  At one end was a small table with a charmed water pitcher that never went empty.  Tonks and Harry were already waiting for Ginny in the room.  

‘Where’re the files?’ asked Tonks.  Her hair was dark blue, almost black, short, and curly.  She looked very dressed up.  A short skirt floated down to her knee caps and showed off very defined calves and shoes with heels.  She had on a tight jumper, red, and a simple silver locket.

‘You must have a date tonight,’ said Ginny with a large grin.

‘I’m going to dinner with a rather handsome man.  He’s going to wine me and dine me and I daresay bed me, too.’

Ginny and Harry laughed.

‘So, who has the kids?’

‘My mum.  Remus gets all worried that we take advantage of her, always asking to baby-sit, but I say, what’s the point of having a grandmother if you can’t use all her features?’

‘My mum loves to watch all my nieces and nephews.’

‘See, exactly.  But can we hurry this up?  I have a date to go – ouch!’  Tonks tripped over the leg of a chair and stumbled.  ‘Blasted furniture!  Why do chairs have to have legs?’

Ginny and Harry exchanged amused glances.  

‘The files?’ asked Harry.

‘Oh, right,’ said Ginny.  She took her satchel off her shoulder and opened it up.  Using her wand, she levitated several small squares out of the side pocket and tapped them.  They blew up to their normal size and Ginny set them down on the table.  ‘I shrunk them; there were too many to carry with me on my way to work this morning.’

‘Clever,’ said Tonks.  ‘Why’d you put a red X on some of them?’

‘Those are the ones with the exact same injuries,’ said Ginny.  ‘Bleeding from the nose and ears.  Blood underneath the fingernails, cuts on the thighs.  I couldn’t figure it out at first because there is absolutely no connection between the victims.  No family connection – so no curses could be passed down.  Your notes on the interviews you conducted with their friends and family suggest that none of them went to the same restaurants in the past month so I had to rule out poison.  So I had to think of these as random incidents.  When you first saw the victims, what did you think was wrong with them?’

‘We had no idea, Gin, that’s why we asked you to help.  You’re the Head Healer Diagnostician in Charge at St Mungo’s.’  Harry sat down in one of the wooden conference chairs, rubbing his chin.  There was a scratchy sound as his fingers felt the hair that hadn’t been shaved in several days.

Ginny cleared her throat and attempted to ignore Harry.  ‘In my Muggle medicine classes we learned that head trauma could cause bleeding of the nose and ears.’

‘So she hit her head?  This isn’t magical at all?’ asked Harry.

‘No, it is magical.  I think someone invaded their minds.’

‘I’m sorry, what?’  Tonks looked confused.

Ginny took in a deep breath.  ‘Is it hot in here?’  She took off her St Mungo’s robes.  Underneath she had on a t-shirt and jeans.  ‘All right.  Harry, when Snape used Legilimency on you in your fifth year, didn’t you feel physical repercussions from that?’  Ginny didn’t wait for him to answer.  ‘So it’s safe to assume that if you’re the victim of Legilimency, forced Legilimency, then your brain could go on ... on overload and you’d have physical injuries outside of the brain.  Like Ron and his brain attack.  He had scars on his arms and weird dreams that summer, y’know?’

‘So we’re looking for ...  Wait, I don’t know who we’re looking for.’

‘I don’t know who you’re looking for,’ said Ginny.  ‘If this is some sort of serial Legilimens you’re on your own.  I don’t do investigations.  I diagnose unknown spells and potions.  And my diagnosis of these victims is brain damage.  Have a nice night.’

‘Don’t leave!’ cried Harry, jumping up from his chair.  ‘There’s so much stuff that’s unanswered.’

‘That’s not my job,’ said Ginny, slinging her satchel over her shoulder.  ‘My job was to find out what was wrong with them.’

‘But—’

‘Your four victims are still unconscious, Harry.  Unless they wake up, I won’t know what went on.  I’m not a mind reader.’

‘You can’t figure that out?’ asked Harry.

‘Figure what out?  What went on inside their heads?’  Ginny laughed.  ‘No!  I suppose a really powerful Legilimens could read someone’s thoughts while they’re unconscious, but is there anyone powerful enough here at the Ministry?’

Harry glanced at Tonks who shook her head.  

‘No,’ she said.  ‘Legilimens are so closely monitored nowadays.  If you practise it, you have to have a license and no one has registered for one in five years.  And good luck finding the old Legilimens.’

‘What about outside of the Ministry?’ asked Ginny.  She turned her eyes on Harry.  ‘What about—’

‘No,’ said Harry.

‘But he’s the most powerful Legilimens we know—’

‘No.’

‘And he would do it.  And he’s—’

‘No!’

‘He’s powerful at it!  Scary powerful, even!  How many Legilimens are there in the world?  A handful?  And how many do we know?  At least one.  You have the power to make him help you on this case.’

‘I can’t, Gin,’ said Harry.  ‘No.’

‘Harry, do you want to solve your case or not?’

Harry took a deep breath and cleared his throat.  ‘Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.  I know I’m going to regret this.  I’ll talk to Kingsley tomorrow about making a deal with him.’

‘D’you know where to find him?’ asked Ginny.

‘Yes,’ said Harry darkly, nodding.  ‘He’s been in the same place for the last six years and he hasn’t gone anywhere.’

Ginny raised her eyebrows.  ‘Really?  Where is he?’

‘Azkaban Prison.’

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX


	2. Chapter 2 : The Legilimens

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Two: The Legilimens**

XXXXXXX

His hands hadn’t stopped shaking in six years.  Every time he reached for something it quivered in his grasp as his hands shook.  Eating had been interesting at first, especially when boiling-hot soup was served, but soon it all became second nature.  Now, he sat in a circular room with a bench made of stone.  His hands were bound with blue rope that had been enchanted and charmed so no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the knot undone or tear the thick twine.  

‘You’re going to slice your skin if you keep struggling,’ said an Auror who had been instructed to guard over him.

He glared at the younger wizard who looked barely out of training pants let alone old enough to be a fully qualified Auror.  

‘ _Ouch_!’ he cried, looking down at his wrists.  Little red beads dropped onto the grey floor.  His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed at the sight of blood, his blood.

‘I told you.  The more you struggle, the tighter they get.  That’s the nature of Razor Rope.’

Obnoxious little git.  Was this really what Azkaban had to resort to now that the Dementors were all rogue and living in caves around the coast?  Everything about Azkaban was torturous these days.  The cells were tiny, kept freezing cold, with charms over the doors and windows so that every time anyone got too close they were given a nice shock of pain that resonated through their entire body.  

He had been in Azkaban for six agonising years, but he refused to let it get to him.  He went through the days’ mind-numbing routine knowing that one day he would be able to leave this place – _hoping_ one day he would be able to leave.

It was an unfortunate turn of events that there were Aurors there that day, as if waiting to arrest him.  He hadn’t been doing anything illegal, but the Aurors wouldn’t listen to reason.  They insisted that they had caught him in the middle of a kidnapping and promptly bound him and broke his wand.  No one would have listened to him if he had told the truth so he refused to answer any questions.  The Ministry used highly trained Legilimens to try and read his thoughts, but he was as powerful at Occlumency as he was at Legilimency and no one was able to read anything inside his head.  They tried Veritaserum but he had long ago built up a resistance to that.  In the end they sentenced him to Azkaban for an ‘undetermined sentence’ for kidnapping, murder, and use of one of the Unforgivable Curses.  

The entire time he never defended himself.  It was as though he wanted to be arrested.  Maybe it would be easier that way.  At least inside of Azkaban he didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to kill him or his family.  Inside Azkaban everyone was safe.  

But now here he was, in a circular room, waiting for something.  He had no idea what he was waiting for, but he was sure that it wasn’t good.  Nothing good ever came from waiting.  He followed all of the rules.  There was no reason he should be punished.  Although, usually when one of the inmates was to be punished they didn’t bring him to a room to wait.

Without warning, some of the stone in the room began to move and merge, creating a doorway.  The Auror grabbed his arm and yanked him up, dragging him over to the opening and through it.  A rush of warm air met him, so warm that his body began to ache as it thawed.  

‘Sit here,’ the Auror instructed.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes or spit at the guard, he sat down in a leather chair, feeling warmth around him for the very first time in six years.  It felt good.  It felt _very_ good.

When he looked up, he saw that he was in an office of some sort.  A large desk with stacks and stacks of parchment sat in front of him.  Then, a black wizard entered the office as more stones in the wall merged and moved.  He sat behind the desk and took out a quill.  A familiar scratching noise sounded as the wizard wrote on the parchment.

‘You are being released.’

He was being – what?  That didn’t make any sense. 

‘Excuse me?’

The black wizard looked up.  Hard lines defined his face; he didn’t look like someone to mess with.  A gold earring hung from his ear and his voice was deep and trenchant.

‘This is temporary.  Your services are needed in the Law Enforcement Department at the Ministry of Magic.  The Minister for Magic himself has requested your release under certain conditions.  You are not allowed the use of a wand.  You will have a strict curfew in which you are to abide.  At all times you are to be in the custody of a guardian.  You cannot be found in the company of any Death Eaters, Dark wizards, et cetera.  This includes your family.  If any Death Eater comes to find you, you must turn him in to the Ministry.  _No contact with Death Eaters._ Your _talents_ , if you will, must only be used for this case.  At which time the case is solved the conditions of your permanent release will be considered.  If you break any of the rules at any time, you will return to Azkaban.  These things are non-negotiable.  Do I make myself clear?’

He nodded, still feeling rather confused.

‘Once you have finished helping with the case, you will be put in front of the review panel.  We will look through your file and see how helpful you were, your work ethics, whether you were on good behaviour.  If your file looks satisfactory enough you could be free to go or have a lighter sentence, perhaps only another year.  Do you understand?’

He nodded again.

‘Now, if you would just read through this contract and sign here we can be on our way.’

‘What am I signing?’ he asked.

‘It’s a magically binding contract that expresses your understanding of the rules I just went over with you.’

He nodded and stood up, taking the quill out of the black wizard’s hand.  With difficultly, seeing as his hands were still tied, he signed his name on the line at the bottom of the contract.  He looked at it and felt an odd stirring in his stomach.  He hadn’t seen or heard anyone speak his name since he entered Azkaban.  He almost had forgotten what it looked liked, what it sounded like, what it was to _be_ him.  His signature was crude, messy, but it read unmistakably as _Draco Malfoy_.

XXXXXXX

The last time Draco had been in the Ministry of Magic was when he was arrested.  He would have liked to forget all about that, but the memories were all too apparent as he sat in one of the meeting rooms, with the charmed water pitcher and portraits lining the walls every few inches.  His fingers picked at the dried blood on his wrists from where the magical rope had sliced through his skin.  The dirty Azkaban robes were too thick for the Ministry.   No one bothered to perform any warming charms around the prison; no one cared if the inmates froze or not and Draco was sweating.  

He was in the room by himself with nineteen portraits snorting at him in disgust.  He didn’t care what portraits thought of him, but he would have liked it if they’d shut the bloody hell up.  It took most of his willpower but he kept his eyes focused on the centre of the table and didn’t look up as four people entered the room.  He only stirred when one of them called him by name.

‘Mr Malfoy.’

His eyes lifted and met those of the black wizard who had signed his release from Azkaban.

‘This is your guardian.  You have been signed into his custody for the duration of the case.  You must be in his care at all times, do you understand?  The only times you can be _out_ of his sight is through his expressed wishes.’

‘Right,’ replied Draco.

‘I’m sure you don’t need any introductions, do you, Mr Malfoy?  But perhaps six years has been a long time, so I shall reintroduce you to your guardian, Mr Potter.’

Draco shifted his eyes from the black wizard towards an average-height, thin man with ridiculous-looking black hair and glasses.  Underneath the thick Azkaban robes, Draco’s body shook with the resistance to sneer at Harry Potter and keep his face looking impassive and blank.  

Of all the people to be assigned custody to it _would_ be Harry Potter.  As though their history at Hogwarts wasn’t enough, now Draco was never going to be out of his sight.  At least Harry didn’t seem overly thrilled with this knowledge either, but Draco thought he detected a bit of smugness seeping the air, smugness that definitely came from Harry’s direction.  

‘You’ll want to tell Mr Malfoy about the case and why he’s here so I’ll leave you to it.’

The black wizard exited the room and Draco scanned the other three people standing before him.  There was, of course, Potter, with the usual smug look on his face, but he’d finally stopped looking like a living skeleton and had filled out somewhat.  Six years hadn’t erased the fact that he still looked like a huge git.  

Next to Harry was a mildly attractive witch who had to be about thirty or more years old with hair cropped around her ears, curly, and dark purple.  Her eyes matched her hair and she wore a very plain wedding band around her ring finger.  It took Draco a moment, but he recognised that short nose as belonging to his cousin.  How revolting – she was a blood traitor if there ever was one.  To be a half-blood and then on top of that marry a _werewolf_?  It was completely against everything the Black family stood for.  She moved to sit down at the table.

‘I’m an Auror,’ said Harry matter-of-factly, as though Draco was completely daft.  ‘And this is my partner, Tonks.’

‘I know who Nymphadora is,’ said Draco.

‘Wotcher, cuz,’ said Tonks, albeit somewhat darkly.

‘Well, then, I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here?’ said Harry.

‘Astute observation.’

‘Right, well ... it’s only a matter of time before this somehow gets out to the _Daily Prophet_ and we want to catch this guy before that happens.  There’ve been four cases that have been referred to the Auror department.  Four, well ...’  Harry flipped through a stack of parchment in his hands.  ‘Right, four witches have been found in their rooms at their houses or flats with the usual anti-Apparation wards and necessary precautions to keep people out of their homes.  So, when they were found they were unconscious, victims of some sort of crime, but _what_ crime we don’t know and how the guy got into their rooms we don’t know, either.’  Harry moved his eyes from Draco to Tonks.

‘Oh, well, it’s a Legilimency crime.’

Draco kept his face neutral.  ‘What?’

‘Ginny Weasley is a diagnostician at St Mungo’s.  When people come in and have no idea what the hell happened to them, she figures out what went wrong and fixes it.  She thinks the four victims seem to have suffered somehow from brain trauma, with bloody noses and everything, and that’s there’s an excellent chance that Legilimency caused it.  If someone tries to invade someone else’s head with excessive force, it stands to reason that they could sustain brain damage.’  Harry shrugged.  ‘But I’m not a Legilimency expert.’

Draco raised his eyebrows.  ‘It stands to reason, does it?  What do you need me for?’

‘You’re the most powerful Legilimens that we know of,’ said Harry, unblinking.  ‘If you were able to read ... well, y’know’s mind and tell ...  You know what I’m referring to, Malfoy, right?’  Harry cleared his throat.  ‘Well, I think you can look into the victims’ heads and tell us what happened to them.’ 

‘Are they still unconscious?’

‘They’re still in St Mungo’s, yes,’ answered Tonks.  ‘The Healers in charge over there have been told they were given a heavy Sleeping Draught, but there’s only so much time that can go by before someone realises it’s not true.’

‘And what exactly do you think I’m going to find?’

‘We don’t know.  But if someone is entering their brains, doesn’t it stand to reason that someone who is a Legilimency expert can figure it out?’

‘A Legilimency expert?’ repeated Draco with a sneer.  ‘I’ve read the minds of powerful wizards ever since I left Hogwarts.  My aunt Bella and my father taught me well in that regard, but it hasn’t ever got me very far.’

‘It helped us win the war,’ said Harry.

‘Oh, well, of course.  A fat lot of help that did _me_ , though.  Ended up in Azkaban, didn’t I?  Doing free labour for Muggles.  Look, I’ll help you and your wretched little case as long as it keeps me out of prison, but I’m not making any promises.  I haven’t used Legilimency in over six years.’

‘It’ll be just like riding a bike,’ said Harry.

‘What?’

‘A bike – you know—’

‘I know what a bike is, Potter!’ snapped Draco.  ‘Do I get to look at those?’ he asked, motioning towards the parchment in Harry’s hands.

‘Yes, of course, but first we should get you some clothes and lunch.  I’m hungry.’

Draco was peckish himself, but he would never admit to it, and the idea of non-Azkaban food was very appealing.

‘Where are you going to get me clothes?  Going to take me to Diagon Alley in prison robes?  Going to take me to Gringotts like this?’

Harry frowned.  ‘You can wear some of mine and then we can stop in at a clothing shop.’

‘No, absolutely not.  I’d rather go back to prison.’

‘ _Malfoy_.  You’re staying at my flat as well, so you best get used to the idea of being around me all the time.  It’s not as though I’m ready to frolic around in a state of bliss that you’re here.  I’d rather eat glass, personally, but we need you’re help and ... well ... here you are.’

Draco knew he couldn’t hide the disdain on his face this time.  The only thing that would be worse would be if Harry shared a flat with that giant oaf of a Weasley he called a best mate.  

‘I’ll pass on lunch, mates,’ said Tonks.  ‘I’m going to eat at home with Remus and the kids.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Harry, a look of desperation etched on his face.

‘I’m sure.’

With a sigh, Harry turned to Draco and said, ‘We’ll Apparate to my flat, get you some clothes, and then we’ll go eat something and discuss the case further.’

‘Ohh?  How would you like for me to Apparate?’ asked Draco.  ‘With the invisible wand I have?’

‘Ah, right,’ muttered Harry.  ‘I suppose we’ll take the tube, then.’

‘Oh, I love Muggle transportation!’ exclaimed Tonks.

‘Muggle transportation?’

Harry gave Draco a large smile.  ‘Yes, and if you don’t come with me, your _guardian_ , then you’ll go back to Azkaban.  What do you say?’

XXXXXXX

‘Absolutely not,’ snapped Draco, looking at himself in Harry’s mirror.

‘Well, I’m not going to let you wear my good clothes.  Just put on the jacket, will you?  I’m hungry and you’re hacking me off.’

‘Where’s your loo?’

Harry pointed to a door across the hall.  ‘There.  Hurry up, though, will you?  I’ll wait in the living room for you.’

Draco didn’t respond, but made his way across the hall to the bathroom.  He could look at himself more closely in the mirror there.  A groan echoed low in his throat; it was as bad as he expected.  His face looked sullen, his eyes like two blackened hollows, his mouth thin without a hint of colour, his hair shiny with oil and grease, hanging in thick, tangled strands past his ears.  The fact that he was wearing _Harry’s_ clothes didn’t help matters either.  Harry had somehow surpassed him in height by an inch or two, just enough for his jeans to be too long for Draco.  The shirt he’d given Draco was old and worn, the colour was a dark puce.  The only things that belonged to Draco were his shoes and underwear – thank Salazar.  He would definitely opt to go back to Azkaban if he had to wear Harry’s pants.  

Even though he would never admit it, Draco was rather glad they were going to get food.  Good food and drink would begin to help erase the marks of Azkaban from his face and help him gain back the body he once had.  Never had he been this thin, this dirty.  He had always been so put-together looking, pristine.  Well, in sixth year he had begun to look rather tired all the time, but it was nothing compared to the damage Azkaban had done to his appearance.

Taking a deep breath, Draco opened the door and walked down the hallway.

Draco cleared his throat and entered the living room.  He watched Harry’s eyes narrow at him.

‘You’ll use the spare bedroom at the end of the hall.  There’s not much in it other than a bed.  I use it mostly for storage.  I know they told you when they released you from Azkaban that you’d have a curfew, but as long as you’re with me that curfew doesn’t have to be strictly observed.  Unfortunately, we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while.  Hopefully not more than a week – I don’t think either of us could stand it much longer than that.’

‘Well, we’d better get to it so I can get the hell out of here.’

‘You need some new clothes,’ Harry stated.

‘You astound me with your observations every time.’

‘Don’t be snarky,’ he said, standing up straighter.  ‘After we eat and discuss the case some more then I’ll take you to Diagon Alley.’

‘I’d rather go get clothes first.  This shirt is going to give me hives.’

‘No, I’m starving.  We’ll do food first.  And by the way, you can burn the clothes after you buy new ones.  I don’t want them anymore.’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Potter.’

‘Let me get some Muggle money and we’ll go,’ said Harry, going into the kitchen and taking a round biscuit jar from top of the fridge.

Draco looked around the living room.  It was rather one huge room that had a settee, coffee table, easy chair, table and chairs, and opened right into the kitchen.  He hadn’t been in Azkaban long enough to forget what nice things looked like and it seemed as though Harry had paid quite a bit to furnish his flat.  Then again, it didn’t look as though Harry had any responsibilities other than to himself so if he wanted to pay a fortune on a dragon-hide sofa, who was Draco to judge?

‘All right, let’s go.’

XXXXXXX

Draco could feel the Muggles surrounding him like a disease.  He was in a Muggle restaurant, surrounded by their filth, and getting ready to order food from them.  If he hadn’t realised just how bad he looked he would have forgone lunch and eaten at someplace where food was cooked by magic.

A blonde girl chomping on gum came up to the table.  She scratched her nose and took out a small pad of paper and a pencil.  She licked the lead-end of it and wrote something on the paper.  ‘’Allo!  My name’s Lydia.  What kin I get fer yeh?  What’s yer poison?’

Her accent sounded vaguely familiar and it grated on Draco’s nerves.

‘My poison?’ repeated Draco.  ‘Moonseed.’

‘ _Malfoy_!’ snapped Harry.  ‘She wants to know what you want to drink,’ he said between clenched teeth.

Draco wasn’t an idiot, but he was not amused by the situation either.  ‘Firewhisky?  No?  Pumpkin juice?  My God, Potter, will you stop making that noise?  You sound as though you’re being choked.  I’ll have a water, no lemon, lots of ice.’

‘Ah, I get it!’ cried the waitress.  ‘Yer the funny one, yeah?’

‘Yeah, I’m the funny one.’

‘Well, there’s always one funny one in every relationship,’ she said with a wink.

Draco retained his composure, but the annoyance still lingered inside him.      

Once Lydia the waitress had got everyone’s order, Harry rounded on Draco.  ‘What is the matter with you?’

‘I’ve no idea to what you are referring.’

‘You can’t do that around Muggles!’

‘Get off your high horse, Potter, no one gives a shit.’

‘Malfoy—’ Harry started, but was interrupted by the waitress bringing them drinks.  ‘Let’s just discuss the case, all right?’

XXXXXXX

The puce coloured shirt was history and Draco felt much better in his new clothes.  He didn’t know how much gold Potter had in his Gringotts vault, but he seemed wholly unimpressed when he saw the mounds and mounds of it in Draco’s.  They passed by several old Hogwarts students in Diagon Alley; they recognised Potter, but didn’t seem to recognise him.  Draco chalked it up to being one of two things: they didn’t realise it was him because Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would _never_ be in the presence of one another without curses and hexes flying or he had changed so much in six years that he looked like a completely different person.  

At any rate, Draco was happy – as happy as Draco could ever actually be – to have got new clothes, the bulk of which would arrive that night to Harry’s flat via owl.

Going through St Mungo’s, Draco kept his eyes locked in front of him; they didn’t stray inside any open doors or to any of the personnel.  He wanted to seem as inconspicuous as possible because he wasn’t here for any ordinary visit.  Air free of the salty, ocean smell was like a gift to his nose.  His eyes didn’t burn from the freezing cold wind that seeped through his cell window and his nose didn’t feel full.  It was rather amazing.  While he felt much better, he was beginning to feel tired, his feet sore.  It had been six years since he’d walked around like this.  Usually he was confined to a tiny square room with a door that magically sealed itself off so that it seemed like a box with naught but a single window.  

Harry stopped in the middle of a corridor and turned around, facing Draco.

‘We’re going to see Ginny,’ he said.

Draco didn’t respond.

‘Did you hear me?’

‘Yeah, I heard you.  What do you want me to say?’

‘Be nice to her.  She’s the one who’s really helped with the case.  She figured out that it was Legilimency.’

‘She _thinks_ it’s Legilimency,’ corrected Draco.  ‘If you lot were sure, I wouldn’t be here.’

Harry’s nostrils flared, but he looked as though he was trying not to get angry.  ‘She’s going to show you the room where the victims are, let you get a feel for them, and hopefully you can do your thing and read their minds.’

‘Legilimency isn’t technically reading someone’s mind.  It’s more complicated than that.’

Harry rolled his eyes.  ‘Fuck, Malfoy, do you have a response for every goddamn thing I say?  Don’t answer that.  I don’t want to be here with you any more than you want to be here with me so let’s just stop the bullshit and do the work.  Come on.’

Draco followed Harry through the hospital floors.  It smelled sterile, clean, with a slight scent of lemon or citrus.  Lime-green Healer robes zoomed past them as they made their way to a dark corridor lined with closed doors.  Harry knocked on one of them and Draco read the sign on it: Ginny Weasley.

A small sounding, ‘Come in,’ filtered through the door and Harry opened the door.  The office was small, a desk and two extra chairs.  Behind the desk sat a small woman, average weight, with ginger coloured hair pulled back in a messy bun, a few wisps and strands falling across her face as she bent over a piece of parchment, her quill scribbling away.  She looked up and Draco was surprised to see that her eyes were dark brown when everything else about her was so fair.  Even her freckles seemed just a pale shade of ginger across white skin.  

‘Oh, hi,’ she said, setting down her quill and standing up.  Her eyes seemed to falter as she looked at Draco, taking him in.  They scanned down his clothes but returned to his face and hair before settling on his mouth.  He wet his lips and she immediately turned her gaze to Harry.

‘I’ve told him everything I can about the case.  He just needs to see the victims.’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Sure, they’re all in the same room.  Before you go breaking into their heads,’ she said, looking at Draco, ‘we’re going to just do one of them today.  I need to monitor them, make sure their bodies are handling another invasion all right.  The last time someone got into their heads they ended up in St Mungo’s.  I can’t have something worse happening.  Once you’re done, I’ll set it up so that the patient has round-the-clock care.  If she’s okay by tomorrow I’ll have you do Legilimency on the other girls.’

‘Sure.  It’s not as though I have a say anyway.’

A confused look flashed across Ginny’s face for a moment before she rolled her eyes.  She turned and picked up her lime-green St Mungo’s robes and threw them on over her jumper and jeans.  Her clothes looked rather big on her and Draco couldn’t tell what her body looked like.  She seemed quiet, more quiet than he remembered her being at Hogwarts, but perhaps she was just a diligent worker.  Certainly she wasn’t quiet.  She came from a loudmouthed family; the loud gene was probably in each of the Weasels.  

‘Come on.’  Ginny went through her office door and across the hall.  She stopped at a closed door.  ‘There’s four girls in there.  They look ...’  Ginny scrunched up her nose in thought.  ‘I don’t know what they look like.  It’s kind of frightening because we can’t wake them up and they’re just lying there.’  Her chest rose and fell as she took in a deep breath and opened the door.

Inside, the room was very dim.  Four beds with crisp white sheets and blue blankets lined one wall.  On the other side were windows with the curtains pulled closed, blocking out the afternoon sun.  The room was vacant but for the beds and a single chair pulled next to the first patient.  

From outside the room, a voice called out, ‘Hey, Gin?  Where the bloody hell are you?’

Ginny turned towards the door and Draco watched a tall, black-haired witch walk in to the room.  Her hair was pulled back in a French plait, but with fringe falling into her eyes.  The skin of her face was smooth and dark, deeply tanned, as though she spent a lot of time on the beach without touching the ocean.  

‘Hi, Helena,’ said Ginny.  ‘What do you need?’

‘Ah, Smethwyck was looking for you.  Apparently he thinks there’s a young boy in his ward who is lying about what type of creature bit him, but he’s been buried in books all day and can’t figure out what’s causing the kid’s ... well, you’d have to see for yourself.’

‘Sure, I’ll be down there in a minute,’ said Ginny.

The woman named Helena nodded, her eyes flickering back and forth between Draco and Harry.

‘Oh, right – I suppose you’ve never met Harry before, have you?’

‘Once,’ said Helena, offering her hand to Harry, ‘at the Christmas party two years ago?’

Harry nodded.  ‘I remember.’

Draco snorted.  Of course Harry remembered.  No one could easily forget someone who looked like Helena.  Although underneath her lime-green St Mungo’s robes, Draco couldn’t tell what type of body she had.  She certainly looked as though she had ample breasts, but other than that, he couldn’t tell if she was thin or plump.  Either way, her face was gorgeous, even though he figured when she woke up in the morning she didn’t look half that good before she put on makeup.  That didn’t really matter, though; Draco would never see what she looked like in the morning since he would be spending the entirety of his freedom in the custody of Harry bloody Potter.

‘And who are you?’ Helena asked, dropping Harry’s hand and extending it to Draco.  He didn’t take it, but held her gaze until she was forced to look at Ginny for an answer.

‘That’s Draco Malfoy.  He, er, went to Hogwarts with us.’

‘Old friends?’

Harry laughed harshly; it sounded like a bark.  ‘No, not old friends.  He’s helping me with a case.’

‘Oh?  How sweet of you.  But why are you lot in here?  This room gives me the creeps.’

‘I was checking up on the patients when they found me,’ said Ginny, almost too quickly.  ‘Nothing’s changed, but I don’t want to give up hope.’

Helena nodded.  ‘Of course not.  Well, when you’re done, go find Smethwyck.  I think he’s about to go a bit barmy.’

Ginny nodded.  ‘All right.’

‘Hopefully I’ll see you two later,’ added Helena, winking, before she left the room.

‘She’s such a tease,’ said Ginny.  ‘But don’t listen to her.  She’s all talk.  She’s married.’

‘As though that’s stopped anyone before,’ muttered Draco.

Ginny gave him a look, one that he couldn’t interpret, and said, ‘We should give you a minute to collect your thoughts.  It’s probably been a long time since you’ve done Legilimency anyway.’

Draco nodded.  He didn’t want to admit it, but it was true.  A moment to calm down and rest his legs and focus would be helpful.  He waited for Ginny and Harry to leave the room.  When the door clicked closed, he sat down in the chair and looked at the girl lying in the bed.  Her hair was plaited close to her head, her skin extraordinarily ashen.  Even though her eyes were closed, she didn’t look peaceful.  The expression on her face made it seem as though she was having a nightmare.  Fear ... pain ... and something else that Draco couldn’t quite place.  Looking at the girl made his insides queasy and he was fairly certain it wasn’t from eating Muggle food, but he still didn’t like what that uneasy feeling could mean.

Not wanting to look at the girl any longer, Draco stood up and went to the door to tell Ginny and Harry – well, he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to tell them.  His fingers grasped the doorknob, but he paused as he heard Harry and Ginny’s voices filter into the room.

‘What was that about Malfoy reading someone’s mind?’ asked Ginny, her voice sounding somewhat like a child’s.

‘Malfoy’s just one of the most powerful Legilimens known to magical Britain.’

‘I know he is, but _why_?  There must be a reason.’

Harry sighed and Draco imagined him to have a frustrated look on his face.

‘Malfoy once read Voldemort’s mind and found his plans for the final battle,’ answered Harry.

Ginny gasped.  ‘What?’

‘And he told Snape, not knowing that Snape was going to tell McGonagall.  He helped stop the war without meaning to.  He was so good at it that Voldemort never realised anyone had even read his mind.’

‘Are you shitting me?’

‘No,’ said Harry, ‘I’m not.’

‘Why didn’t that come up in his trial?  You’d think that someone who helped end the war would get a break.’

‘He’s still scum, Gin.  He still kidnapped a girl and killed an Auror.  Not to mention he’s used the Unforgivable Curses before and he tried to kill Dumbledore.  He’s no higher on the social ladder now than a Flobberworm.’

‘I suppose.  I wonder what he saw inside Voldemort’s head that made him tell Snape in the first place.  What was that?’

Draco jumped back from the door as Ginny opened it.  She gave him a forced smile.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows.  

Shaking his head, Draco said, ‘No.’

‘What do you mean “no”?’ asked Harry, looking angry and appalled.

‘I mean, _no_ , I can’t do it.’

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX


	3. Chapter 3 : The Symbol on the Door

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Three: The Symbol on the Door**

XXXXXXX

‘What do you mean “no”?’ asked Harry, looking angry and appalled.

‘I mean, _no_ , I can’t do it.’

The expression on Harry’s face was one of confusion and disgust.  His eyes were wide as he turned his head to look at Ginny, who seemed equally appalled.

‘We’ll take him back to Azkaban,’ said Harry.

Ginny shook her head.  ‘No, don’t.’  She focused those big brown eyes on Draco.  ‘This is really, really important.  Something traumatising happened to those girls and we have no idea what.  We need you to find the memories and tell us – tell Harry.’

‘Yeah, and he needs to fucking do it right now.’

Ginny placed a hand on Harry’s arm.  ‘No,’ she said.  ‘Harry, calm down.’

‘I’m calm.’

Ginny shook her head in disbelief and said to Draco, ‘Maybe you should sleep?  You were released this morning and have been going all day.  It’s almost supper time as it is.  Tomorrow you might feel more like helping?’

‘Sleep isn’t going to solve Malfoy’s personality problems,’ sneered Harry.  ‘If he doesn’t want to help now, he’s not going to want to help tomorrow.’

Not wanting Harry to be right, Draco agreed with Ginny.  ‘I _am_ tired and Legilimency takes a lot of energy.’

‘See?’ said Ginny, looking back at Harry.  ‘Do I need to come over and referee the two of you?’

Harry laughed.  ‘Malfoy doesn’t have a wand so I’ll try hard to play fair.’

‘ _Harry_ ,’ groaned Ginny.  

‘We’ll be fine, I’m sure,’ said Draco.  

‘I’ll be over there when I’ve finished my charts and gone to calm Smethwyck down,’ said Ginny, not looking at all convinced.  

Harry nodded.  ‘All right, see you then.  I’ll make dinner.’

Ginny smiled.  ‘Great.’

‘Come on, Malfoy.’

Grumbling under his breath, Draco left the hospital room.  Harry insisted that they take the tube again back to his flat.  The stench of Muggles made Draco sick to his stomach, but the thought of sleeping in a real bed – even if that bed was Potter’s – kept him feeling all right.  

Harry’s flat was in a building with other Muggles.  Draco had no idea why anyone would want to live amongst Muggles, not when there was an abundance of wizard flats in Diagon Alley.  Still, it was nice inside, even if the style wasn’t what Draco would choose for himself.

‘Ginny picked out most of the stuff here,’ said Harry, looking around his living room.

‘I didn’t ask,’ said Draco, eyeing the furniture, pictures, and knickknacks.  

‘The things she didn’t pick out, her brother did.  George, not Ron.’

‘George not Ron what?’ asked Draco.

‘Ginny’s brother George,’ said Harry slowly.  ‘I share the flat with him.  He has the room next to yours.  He’s been in Paris all week with Fred.  He’ll be back in the next couple of days.’

‘Which one is George?’ asked Draco, hoping George wasn’t the Weasel with the glasses who always acted as though he had a rather painful tree branch rammed up his arse.

‘George is one of the twins.’

Draco frowned.  That might be worse.

‘I’m making dinner but you don’t have to lower yourself to eat it if you don’t want to,’ said Harry, taking off his jacket and draping it over the back of one of his living room chairs.  

‘Do you always make dinner for the girl Weasel?’

‘Her _name_ is Ginny,’ Harry bit out.  ‘And, no.  Sometimes.  We’re friends.’

‘“Friends”?  I haven’t been in Azkaban _that_ long, Potter.  Friends don’t decorate other friends’ flats.’

Instead of answering, Harry turned his back on Draco and went into the kitchen, using his wand to Summon food and seasonings.

‘Like I said,’ repeated Harry, ‘you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to.’

Draco scowled, but Harry’s back was still to him.  He felt the need for a good fight, but arguing with Potter seemed more tiring than thrilling at the moment.  Besides, Draco wondered whether any owls had dropped off his new clothes for him yet.  He wandered to the back bedroom and sitting on the bed were three large packages.  The room had a draught from the open window and Draco closed it first before opening up his new things.  He was most interested in his pyjamas, the feel of the fine fabric against his skin.

He didn’t need dinner – what he needed was a good shower.  Draco took his pyjamas and went into bathroom.  There were extra towels on a shelf next to the sink and Draco took one down and placed it next to the tub.  He looked at himself in the mirror and scowled again.  A shower would help to fix things, he was sure.

Steam rose from the tub and curled around him in a white fog.  Draco hadn’t had a hot shower in six years.  He stepped into the tub and groaned.  There were just some things _Scourgify_ couldn’t do and wash away over half a decade of imprisonment was one of them.  Draco used the liquid soap and scrubbed down his body several times, leaving his skin rather red.  He shampooed his hair twice and used his fingers to work out the tangles.  It didn’t matter if he left the shower smelling like Potter’s soap; he was clean, _really_ clean, and he hadn’t felt so good in a long time.

After he turned off the water, he wrapped the black towel around his waist and used the palm of his hand to wipe away the fog off the mirror.  He looked better, Draco had to admit, but there were still black circles under his eyes and his skin still looked very sallow, pale.  

Draco ran his fingers through his hair and frowned.  Even wet it didn’t look right.  He looked through Harry’s drawers for a pair of scissors before realising how ridiculous it would be to find a pair of scissors in Harry’s bathroom.  He happened upon a straight razor and Draco figured that would have to do.  He took the razor and sawed at pieces of his hair until it was a good length.  He felt even better yet again.  He put on his pyjamas and hung the wet towel up to dry.

As Draco left the bathroom, he heard Harry’s voice from the living room, but the other voice didn’t belong to Ginny Weasley, of that Draco was sure.

‘I thought I was going to get to see you tonight,’ said a high-pitched female voice.

‘I have company,’ said Harry.

Draco stuck his head around the corner and saw Harry leaning towards the fireplace.  The flames were a bit green and noticed that a head was sticking out.  It struck Draco as odd because he thought Harry said his flat wasn’t connected to the Floo Network.

‘Company?  What’s that mean?’

‘An old chum from Hogwarts,’ lied Harry.  ‘I’m making us dinner.  He’s staying at my flat for a while, until some things get settled.  He shouldn’t be here too long.’

‘So I can’t come over?’

‘No, not tonight.  I’ll try to make it over to your place later this week, but I can’t make any promises.  But I’ll come see you as soon as I can.’

‘But I want to see you _now_ , if you know what I mean.’

Harry’s laugh was sickening and Draco rolled his eyes.

‘Get yourself fully connected to the Floo Network,’ said the girl, ‘so I can just come on over whenever I need to.’

‘You know I only have the limited connection.  Just enough for conversations.’

_Well_ , thought Draco, _that explains it_.

‘And, besides, I can’t really leave my, er, friend here all night by himself.  He’s not actually from London.  He doesn’t know his way around.’

‘Can’t you find a friend to stay with him?  So you can visit me?’

‘Ah, that’s not a bad idea.  I need to get going and finish dinner.  I’ll owl you.’

Harry stood up and Draco quickly retreated back down the hallway towards the spare bedroom.  It seemed like a very interesting turn of events.  Draco had dumbly assumed that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were still an item, but apparently Harry was dating – or at least sleeping with – other people.  Draco wondered if Ginny knew that.

Before he went to bed, Draco heard Harry’s and Ginny’s voices from the end of the hallway.  Being at Azkaban proved him an expert at blocking out unwanted noises and he was soon able to fall asleep.

XXXXXXX

‘Are you going to back out again?’ asked Harry, going through the faux store window into the waiting area of St Mungo’s.

‘No.’

‘What the hell was that about anyway?  Saying “no” yesterday?’

‘I didn’t feel like doing it.  Legilimency is hard work, Potter, in case you didn’t know.’

Harry snorted and Draco felt the anger rise in him again.  Draco would have never admitted it to anyone, but he had no idea what the bloody hell he was looking for in those girls’ heads and it was unnerving.  For something to happen in their heads to leave them unconscious?  What kind of sick, twisted, traumatic things would he find?  Last night, he didn’t want to find anything.  Today he felt a bit better.  Perhaps finding one or two things wouldn’t be so bad.  At least if he found something he could keep taking real showers and sleeping in a real bed with real blankets.  He made up his mind to reveal just enough to Harry to keep the case going but not enough to close the case too soon.  He wanted as much time away from Azkaban as possible.

Draco walked with Harry up to the tea room where they were to meet Ginny for breakfast and go over the case.  The tea room was practically empty and Draco immediately spotted Ginny sitting at a table with the black-haired witch from the day before.  They both turned and greeted Harry and Draco as they walked up and sat down.

After ordering eggs and toast, Draco found his eyes flicking back and forth between the two women.  Ginny’s attractiveness was simple.  She seemed to wear light makeup and her hair wasn’t styled.  The lines of her face were smooth, her freckles faded over time.  Helena, on the other hand, was attractive as well, but hers was more exotic.  Her skin was tan, her hair dark. The makeup around her eyes was black and her lips were full and a deep red, like the colour of dried blood.  Something about her oozed sex, whereas Ginny looked reserved and innocent.  

As he watched Helena, Draco realised Helena was watching him as well.  He looked at her, blocking out Harry and Ginny.  She licked her lower lip slowly and stretched her arms over her head, creating deeper cleavage.  To anyone else, it would have looked as though Helena was simply stretching, but Draco got the hint.  Helena lowered her arms and drank her coffee, turning her attention back to the conversation.

Draco ate his eggs, listening to Harry and Ginny hold conversation as Helena piped in here and there.  No one brought up the case and Draco wondered whether Helena was even supposed to know about it.  Probably not.  His question was answered when she got up and excused herself, explaining that she was already late for her shift.

‘Sorry about that,’ said Ginny.  ‘She was already here when I came up to meet you and I couldn’t tell her not to sit with me.’

‘Sure you could have,’ said Draco.  ‘I would have.’

‘That’s because you’re an arse.’

‘Harry,’ said Ginny in a warning tone.  She looked back at Draco.  ‘Here’s what I need you to do today.  I know the girls are unconscious and you usually perform Legilimency by looking into someone’s eyes, so try holding their hands or touching their arms – something to have physical contact to make it easier to see inside their heads.  Try not to be too invasive.  We don’t need to know about their childhood or their most embarrassing moments.  We just need to know what happened right before they slipped into their comas.’

‘Right.  So you still have no idea what I’m looking for.’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘No, but I really do think that someone else has broken into their minds before, and that’s why they’re in the state they’re in today.  I don’t know if you’ll be able to see those memories, but ...’  She wet her lips and swallowed.  ‘But we need to do something because otherwise I don’t know when they’ll wake up.  Nothing’s changed since they got here.  And my superiors are beginning to ask questions about why I can’t wake them up.’

‘If the only people asking questions are the Healers in charge then I think we’re all right,’ said Harry.  ‘I don’t want anyone outside of the hospital to get wind of this.  The last thing I need is this case to go public.  Having Kingsley breathe down my neck every day is enough.’

‘Is Tonks coming?’ asked Ginny.

‘No, she’s finishing up the paperwork from our last case,’ said Harry.  ‘I told her I would brief her later on everything that’s happened.  I don’t think she really wants to hear what happened to those girls.  _I_ don’t really want to hear what’s happened, but I’d rather do this than write reports all day.’

Ginny smiled and nodded.  ‘I know what you mean.  Let’s go downstairs and see the girls again.  I’m sure we’ll find something today.’

XXXXXXX

Draco sat in the chair next to the first patient.  He held on to her wrist and pushed with his mind.  It was more difficult breaking into someone’s head this way, but not impossible.  Usually he looked into their eyes and _wham_ , was inside them.  The eyes were merely windows in which to look through to get a glimpse into someone’s mind.  Physical contact of any other sort meant Draco had to find his way to the mind.  It was like a puzzle, confusing, but he always found his way.  

This was no exception.

The first girl was in her early twenties.  He sifted through several memories of her visiting her father at the Ministry, of having family dinners, of watching professional Quidditch games.  The memories were divided up and separated.  The mind was like a maze, with infinite corridors and doorways.  Behind each door was a different type of memory.  Some doors held childhood memories.  Some held memories of love or loss, of sex or leisure, of home or work.  

Draco felt his blood pumping through his veins at an amazing rate.  This was taking more energy than he would have liked to admit.  The girl was resisting him and he felt a flash of uncomfortable heat hit him every time he tried to turn down one of the corridors in her mind.  It was as though something – or someone – didn’t want him finding out what was behind one of those doors.  That particular corridor kept moving around, as though trying to stay hidden.

He knew that was where he needed to go.  He knew that was where whatever happened to her lay.  

His body pushed past the heat and resistance and found himself facing a door.  It looked just like all of the other ones only he couldn’t slip through it and see the memories on the other side.  It was closed, sturdy, and blocked.  That’s when he saw it.

Imprinted on the door was a symbol.  Draco had never seen anything like this before.  Usually the doors inside the mind were nondescript and if you weren’t proficient in Legilimency you sometimes would never see one.  It was when you were strong enough to wander inside someone else’s mind that you started seeing them, but a closed door like this, with a symbol on it, was something completely new to Draco.

He pulled out of the girl’s mind and sat in the chair, holding his head.  Pain pounded against his temples.

‘Here,’ said a faraway voice.

Someone handed him a cup and he put it to his lips and drank.  Almost instantly the pain receded.  He looked up and noticed Ginny looking at him.

‘What?’ he snapped.

She recoiled slightly and narrowed her eyes.  ‘You were in there for a long time.  What did you see?’

‘Nothing,’ said Draco.

‘Maybe Harry’s right.  Maybe you _should_ just go back to Azkaban.’

‘Oh, do hush up,’ snapped Draco.  ‘Did she react at all?  Towards the end?’

‘Her blood pressure went up,’ revealed Ginny.  ‘Her heart rate went up.  I was afraid her nose might start bleeding again, but then you let go of her arm and she calmed down again.’

Draco nodded.  Made sense: the girl’s body was reacting the closer he came to that damn closed door.

‘I need to talk to Harry.  Where is he?’

‘In my office.  Come on.’

Draco followed Ginny out of the hospital room and across the corridor to her office.  He was flipping through one of Ginny’s healing books, looking thoroughly bored.  When he spotted Draco, he jumped up from his seat, looking like an eager little boy waiting to get a handful of sweets.

‘Well?’

‘I didn’t see anything.’

‘Goddamn, Malfoy!’ cried Harry.  ‘You could have at least _tried_ —’

‘Harry, stop,’ warned Ginny.  ‘Why don’t you just listen to what he has to say?  You _do_ have something to say, right?’

Draco nodded.  He looked at Ginny for a moment; her Healer robes had fallen off one shoulder, exposing a patch of fair, freckled skin.  He wet his mouth and looked back up at her face.  Then, he reached on her desk for a quill and dipped it into a bottle of ink.  He found a piece of parchment and drew the symbol he saw on the door.  He held up the piece of paper for Harry and Ginny to see.

‘This is what I saw.’

‘What is that?’ asked Harry, looking confused.

‘I have no idea.’

‘So that was the only thing you saw?’

‘Of course not.  I saw lots of memories.  What you obviously don’t understand about the human mind is that it is all divided up into sections.  All the memories you have of eating dinner with fifty Weasels would all be behind one door.  Why are you looking at me like I have four heads, Potter?’

‘Because I don’t bloody understand what you’re saying.’

‘I should have figured you wouldn’t be able to pick up what I’m saying.’

‘So explain it differently.’

Draco groaned in frustration.  ‘So, you date around, yeah?’ he said, looking directly at Harry and remembering the Floo conversation he had overheard.

‘Er, yes.’

‘So, your brain has a lot of different corridors and down each corridor are similar memories.  You have one corridor in your head specifically about the girls you’ve dated.  Each girl probably has a different door.  And then there are some doors about events.  There’s a sex door and a fight door – every time you’ve had sex your brain files away those memories behind a particular door.  Every time you get in a fight with a girlfriend, gets filed away behind another door.’

‘All right,’ said Harry.  ‘I think I’m following you now.’

‘Goody,’ said Draco rather dryly.  ‘None of those doors should actually be closed.  When I get close to a door I can slip through it or see through it and then I’m surrounded by the memories that are directly behind it.  But in that girl’s head is a door that I couldn’t get past and this’ – Draco held up the parchment again, right in Harry’s face – ‘was on the door.’

‘But what is it?’ asked Ginny, taking the paper from Draco’s grip.

‘I have no bloody idea.  But whatever it is, I don’t think that girl put it there.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Harry, looking confused again.

‘It takes a Legilimency expert to completely close off a door inside their own head.  Even _I’m_ not powerful enough to do it to myself,’ confessed Draco.

‘It looks like a rune,’ observed Ginny.  ‘I don’t know much about them.  I didn’t take that class at Hogwarts.’

Draco noticed a look pass between Ginny and Harry.  He was curious as to what they were both thinking, but he kept his mouth shut.

‘I think we should take this to—’

‘I completely agree—’

‘When—?’

‘Now.’

Draco let out a frustrated groan.  ‘ _What_?’

‘What should we do about him?’ asked Harry.

‘Take him with you,’ said Ginny.  ‘I have things to do here.’

‘I can’t.  He won’t be allowed in the Department of Mysteries.’

‘Why are you going to the Department of Mysteries?’ asked Draco, even though he had the feeling he was going to be completely ignored.

‘I can’t baby-sit him here,’ said Ginny.  ‘Someone would ask questions.’

Harry rubbed his chin as though in deep thought.  ‘Well, can you take an hour off and come with us to the Ministry?  I need someone to watch him while I go get Hermione.  You know how the Department of Mysteries is – no owls, no Floo.  We’ll have to actually go to the Ministry to see her.’

‘ _Granger_?’ said Draco as though the name was a bad taste in his mouth.

‘Yes, Hermione Granger,’ said Harry.

‘Well, Hermione Weasley,’ corrected Ginny.

‘Right.’

‘She works for the Ministry, but we’re not sure what she does.  She still knows all about runes.  She’ll be able to tell us all about that one,’ said Ginny.  ‘I’m sure she’ll know of a way to get past the rune so you can open that door and see what’s on the other side.’

‘Great,’ Draco said dryly.  If there was something he looked forward to less than seeing these Legilimency-induced memories it was seeing Hermione Granger.  ‘Wait, do we have to take the pipe again?’

‘Pipe?’ repeated Harry.

‘I think he means the tube,’ said Ginny.

Harry laughed loudly.  ‘Yes, we’ll have to take the tube again.’

‘Goddamn bloody Muggle transportation,’ muttered Draco as they left Ginny’s office.

XXXXXXX

They arrived in the Atrium of the Ministry a short time later.  Harry told Ginny to wait in the queue to get her wand checked out while he went to fetch Hermione.  They’d meet in his office when they were done.

‘So,’ said Ginny, ‘how do you like being free?’

‘What?’

‘It’s a conversational construct,’ offered Ginny.  ‘I ask questions in hope of striking up a conversation so that we’re not both standing here in awkward silence, wishing to be somewhere else.’

‘I like being free.’

‘This is where you ask me a question in return.’

Draco put his hands in his pockets and took a few steps forward as the queue got closer to the wand checker.  

‘I don’t have anything to ask,’ he said.

‘What was it like to read Voldemort’s mind?’ asked Ginny.

‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ answered Draco.

Ginny sighed.  ‘You’re making conversation very difficult.’

‘Do you even care about talking to me?  You don’t have to martyr yourself for my sake.  You don’t want to talk to me any more than I really care to talk to you.  So let’s just enjoy the silence and hope to God we can just get back to St Mungo’s soon.’

‘Fine,’ snapped Ginny, flipping her hair over her shoulder and thrusting her wand at the wizard behind the desk.

‘Nine and one-fourth inches, rosewood, unicorn hair,’ said the wizard.

Draco eyed the wizard.  The only thing Draco recognised on the man was the way he looked at Ginny.  That was a look of attraction and Draco would know that look anywhere – all blokes had the same expression in their eyes when naughty thoughts ran through their heads as they looked at an attractive girl.

‘Yeah,’ said Ginny.  

‘Do you remember my name?’ asked the wizard, covering up his nametag with one hand while giving back her wand with the other.

‘Er ...’

Draco snorted.  Ginny obviously had no idea what this poor wizard’s name was.  

‘It’s Leo,’ he said.

‘Oh, right!’ exclaimed Ginny.  Draco noticed a fake tone to her voice.  ‘I remember now.  I won’t forget next time.’

‘Have a nice day,’ said Leo, taking his hand away from his nametag.  LEONARD PURSONS.  

Ginny gave him a smile as they walked away from the desk.  Draco chuckled.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘You don’t remember him at all, do you?’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘No, I didn’t.  You don’t think ...’

‘I don’t think what?’

‘Nothing.  Well, you don’t think he’s interested in me, do you?’

Draco didn’t answer, but chuckled again and let Ginny lead the way up to Harry’s office.

XXXXXXX

The room was small with a desk and two chairs.  There were bookshelves behind the desk full of titles like _The Dark Arts Unmasked_ and _How to Plot the Unplottable_.  Draco sat in the chair, trying not to look at Ginny.  

It had been so long since he’d seen a woman that he was finding himself attracted to women as a whole.  Ginny was attractive, but she wasn’t a beauty.  Something about her was almost cold, as if she didn’t need anyone, as if she was completely independent.  Which was, of course, fine.  Draco liked an independent woman, but he didn’t want a woman who didn’t need him in some way – even if it was just for sex or to get her off, but he was sure Ginny could handle herself in that department as well.  

At Hogwarts Draco surrounded himself by people who were dependent on him.  Crabbe and Goyle wouldn’t have tied their shoes if he hadn’t told them to do so.  Pansy just simpered and followed and waited on him hand and food.  After he left Hogwarts he hadn’t given Pansy a second thought and had allowed himself to get involved with the daughter of a Death Eater, a girl who never acted as though she needed him for anything but a good time.  It was a turn on and Draco certainly didn’t miss having to fight to get her alone, but it was odd being with a girl who didn’t seem to want him for anything that didn’t involve a bed.

The door to Harry’s office opened and Harry walked in with Hermione Granger.  Draco would have recognised her anywhere.  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but it wildly spilled out of the tie in tangled curls.  Everything about her was the same, only slightly aged.  She stopped short when her eyes fell on Draco and for the first time in Draco’s memory, words seemed to fail her.

‘Malfoy’s here, helping us on a case,’ stated Harry.

‘Helping on a case?’ repeated Hermione.

‘There’s been a few people who’ve got hurt from Legilimency.’

‘Legilimency?’

‘And the Ministry wanted to enlist the most powerful Legilimens it could get its hands on.’

‘The most powerful Legilimens?’

‘That’s why Malfoy’s here.’

‘Malfoy?’

‘Hermione, stop repeating everything I say!  You know Malfoy’s capabilities as a Legilimens, don’t you?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Hermione, not taking her eyes off Draco.  ‘You look like hell, Malfoy, where’ve you been all these years?’

‘Azkaban.’

‘How surprising.’  Hermione looked back at Harry.  ‘What do you need my help with?’

‘Malfoy used his, er, talents to look into the minds of one of the victims, but he found a door with a symbol on it and he couldn’t get past it to see the memories behind it.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Hermione.

‘You see, Granger—’

‘It’s Weasley now,’ corrected Hermione.

Draco snorted.  ‘You see, _Weasley_ , the mind is comprised of corridors and doorways and—’

‘I know how the mind is set up, Malfoy.  I know how we file away memories and new information into our heads.  It’s called psychology.’

Draco paused, staring heatedly at Hermione, before continuing on.  ‘In that girl’s head there was a door that kept moving, which it shouldn’t do, and on the door was a symbol.  When I got too close it projected this heat and it burned.’

‘What’d the symbol look like?’ 

Harry fished through his pockets and pulled out the parchment that Draco had drawn the symbol on.  Hermione snatched it out of Harry’s hand and looked at it, her eyes narrowing.  Draco could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

‘It definitely looks like a rune, but not a traditional one.’  Hermione held up the paper.  The symbol was a vertical line with a triangle attached to the middle of it.  One line of the triangle extended a little ways past it.  Hermione covered that extra line of the triangle.  ‘This is a rune of protection.’  She removed her hand.  ‘But this is something entirely different.  It’s been modified.  Although, with the extra line one could infer that it’s a rune of extra protection.’

‘Protection against what?’ asked Ginny.

‘Against anything,’ said Hermione.  ‘Against someone looking into those memories, perhaps.  Although, I’m not sure how someone could do this.  It would be altering the mind itself.  Only a powerful Legilimens could do that.’

‘That’s what I said,’ replied Draco.  ‘So what do I do with it?’

‘With the rune?  You need to go back into the girl’s head and remove it,’ answered Hermione.  

Draco had no idea how to do that.  He knew Legilimency from the observation point.  He knew how to look around and find things, not change things.  If normal Legilimency left him exhausted and with a raging headache, he could only imagine how he was going to feel after trying to modify something.

‘If I did some research I might be able to tell you more about this rune.  Every line tends to mean something, so I am curious what the exact purpose of this extra line is.  Changing something in someone’s mind ... that could cause serious damage.’

‘We know,’ said Harry.  ‘There are four girls in St Mungo’s right now suffering from the same thing.  If they all have this rune in their heads then that could explain why they’re all unconscious.’

‘I imagine planting something like that could be very painful.  Do try and be careful with their minds,’ Hermione said to Draco.

He grunted in response.  As if he’d take instructions from a Mudblood.

‘You can owl me at the hospital if you find out anything else,’ said Ginny, ‘but I really need to get back.  There’s a good lot of patients I still need to see today.’  

‘Yes, I’ll let you know if I find anything,’ assured Hermione.  

‘Good,’ said Ginny.  ‘Let’s go.’

XXXXXXX

Back at St Mungo’s, Draco’s headache was beginning to resurface.  He rubbed his temples and ground his teeth.  Hermione’s speech about runes and protection made the anger in him rise.  He was supposed to perform Legilimency on some girls and go about his business.  But now he had to find a way to _alter_ their minds?  To change symbols that shouldn’t even _be_ there?  It was too much; it was too complicated.  Performing regular Legilimency was hard enough, left him exhausted, but to try and change something in someone else’s head would most likely cause him to black out or faint.  Draco wasn’t sure he could do it.

Now, how was he supposed to go about telling Harry this without having Harry be a complete arse about it?  The truth was that _maybe_ he could do it after a good night’s sleep, but he needed rest.  He needed to relax.  Seeing Hermione Granger had only intensified his feelings of stress.  It was hard not to make biting remarks about her and the Weasel she married.  Six years in Azkaban did little to extinguish his dislike of her.

‘Draco, are you ready?’ asked Ginny, opening the door to her office and stepping inside.  ‘I checked the girl and she seems all right to have another go – what’s wrong?’

‘Headache,’ he mumbled.

‘D’you need another potion?’

‘No.’

‘D’you want to try again tomorrow?’

Draco looked at up at Ginny.  Her dark eyes were wide again, drinking him in, and he had to look away from her.  How she could be so nice to him was beyond his comprehension.  Even Harry was being a git.  She matured in ways Harry hadn’t since the last time he saw them.  

‘I don’t know,’ said Draco.  ‘Give me a minute.’  He got up from the chair and pushed past Ginny.  Helena was standing outside of Ginny’s office, with her fist up, ready to knock.  Draco shot her a look and walked down the corridor towards a sign with the letters WC – water closet – and opened the door.  Once inside the loo, Draco went to the sink and gripped either side of it with his hands, leaning his weight on his arms.

The door opened and closed behind him and he said, ‘I don’t want company.’

‘I’m not here to keep you company.’

Draco looked into the mirror.  Helena stood a metre or so behind him, looking wicked with her black hair pulled back away from her face.  She had her wand in her hand and tapped it on the doorknob, locking the door.

‘You look tense.  I saw you walking in here.’  She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, dropping her wand on the tile floor.  ‘Ginny said you needed some time to relax.  I can help you with that.’

‘Can you?’ breathed Draco, hardly believing what his ears were hearing.  He turned around and leaned his bum against the sink, crossing his arms.  ‘I see the wedding ring on your finger.  Some wizard isn’t going to come and try to hex me, right?’

Helena shook her head.  ‘My Marcus has no idea of what I do.  I don’t say anything and neither do the men I’m with.’

Draco raised his eyebrows.

‘There aren’t a lot of men,’ said Helena slowly.  ‘And no one knows about them – including Ginny.  She’s so innocent.  She knows nothing of flings and trysts.’

‘Is that what we’re going to call it?  A tryst?’

Helena smiled.  ‘We can call it whatever you like.’  

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘I have a thing for arrogant assholes.’

‘It’s a good thing I am one then.’

‘And I’ve always wondered what Death Eaters are like underneath the masks and robes ... whether you’re just like regular wizards ...’

Draco snorted.  He was never much of a Death Eater and if he had been, he doubted he would have been a good one.  But if an attractive witch wanted him for being a Death Eater, then he’d play along.

She took hold of Draco’s shirt and pulled him towards her.  She kissed his mouth, running her tongue back and forth across his before taking his lower lip and sucking on it.  He felt the slight pull of teeth as she nibbled on his lip, her free hand reaching behind him and taking hold of his backside, pushing him into her.  His neck was bent down since Helena was quite a bit shorter than he was, but as this was the first contact he’d had with a female in _years_ , Draco wasn’t about to start complaining.

He had been right – Helena was definitely not reserved.  Her hands let go of him and he stopped kissing her just long enough to watch her take her lime-green St Mungo’s robes off.  She had on a t-shirt and straight skirt.  Assuming she’d let him do just about anything, Draco let his hands go straight to her breasts, holding them for a moment before kneading them with his fingers.  They were more firm than the last few girls he’d been with.

Draco removed his mouth from Helena’s and pushed her head to the side, kissing her neck before biting down on it in an attempt to relieve himself of some of the tension that was building.  She groaned and he could feel it vibrate against his lips.  Her hands slipped down to the front of his trousers where she rubbed him through the fabric.  If she wasn’t careful she was going to kill him.  

If Draco was honest with himself, he would have said he wasn’t surprised this happened.  She’d watched him all during breakfast that morning and touched his arm when he had come back to St Mungo’s that afternoon.  The way she oozed sex wasn’t in any sensual, mysterious way.  It was in a blatant, right-in-front-of-you sort of way.  The way her fingers rubbed against his trousers suggested she was no foreigner to this.  

‘If that’s all you’re going to do,’ Draco breathed into her ear, ‘then I’m going to have to finish it myself.’

Helena laughed and shook her head.  She pushed up his shirt and kissed his chest, first between his nipples, and then licking them before trailing wet kisses down his stomach and around his naval.  The floor was probably cold and hard on her knees, but Draco didn’t think twice about her comfort as she undid the button and zipper of his trousers and took him in her hands, flesh to flesh.  

She wet her lips and looked up at him, waggling her eyebrows in a sexy and suggestive way before asking, ‘Ready?’

XXXXXXX

Cecilia pulled a sweatshirt on over her t-shirt and climbed into bed.  It was almost one in the morning and she’d stayed up as long as she could.  She felt the pull of sleep as she read her book and when her eyes started to water and glaze over she decided it was time for bed.  But as usual, the lure of sleep was a bit scary.  The dreams she had felt so real and yet she had no idea why she was dreaming the things she was.  It didn’t make any sense.

Her brother had given her a dreamless sleep potion a week or so ago, but she’d only used it once.  It had worked, she supposed, but she’d been late for work.  The potion was designed to make one sleep for a full night, eight hours, and tonight Cecilia didn’t have eight free hours to devote to sleep.  

The precautionary wards were all up around her room and Cecilia felt safe that no one could enter her flat, but she still felt as though someone was watching her.  She pulled the blankets up to her chin, her neck heating up, her body burning from someone staring at her, but as her eyes scanned the room, no one was there.  No one was ever there.

It didn’t take long for Cecilia to finally fall asleep.  She settled into an easy dream about days gone by when she was a small child at Hogwarts, trying desperately to pass Transfiguration.  As she saw a little girl with plaits in her head, a rough, male hand pushed at her legs and her sweet dream was ripped away and replaced with one much more terrifying.  

The problem with these dreams, other than being disturbing, was that Cecilia never knew when to expect them.  Sometimes she’d have them several days in a row.  Other times she’d go practically a week without a dream at all.  It was beginning to make her nervous and jumpy.  She was getting _just_ enough sleep to function, but not enough to feel good.  Instead of going out to the Leaky Cauldron or Apparating to Hogsmeade for a late night drink with friends, she began coming home to unwind and prepare herself for bed.  Her friends were beginning to think her sick or stuck-up and Cecilia had no way of telling them the truth.  The truth sounded too bizarre to her ears; she couldn’t imagine telling anyone else.

Wide thumbs hooked themselves under the elastic of her pyjama bottoms and pulled both them and her knickers down.  Her heart began to pound in her ears; it was the only sound in the room.  Hot air warmed her neck and she could smell the familiar scents of just-eaten dinner breath, food mixed with light drink.

Her body sunk further into the mattress as weight rested on top of her body.  She tried to move; she always tried to move.  Her body was dead to her, unmoving, and she felt paralysed and frightened.  With her mind, she tried to push the dream away, tried to rid herself of what was happening.  She could feel a pain stretching across her head as she pushed.  It hadn’t worked before, but suddenly she found herself awake and breathing heavily.

Scrambling up to a sitting position, Cecilia looked down at herself.  She still had on all the clothes she wore before she climbed into bed.  Her nose felt odd and she wiped at it with the back of her hand.  Blood.  It was no longer unusual for her to wake up with a bloody nose these days.

Cecilia got up and made her way to the loo.  She washed her face, applying pressure to her nose until the blood stopped trickling down.  She avoided looking at the mirror; the need to see what she looked like had passed a long time ago.  She knew her eyes would still look wide and scared.  Seeing her features skewed up in a panicked expression was not something Cecilia wanted to see.

Her body had not yet calmed down from the dream.  Cecilia climbed back into bed with her book and opened it, hoping that reading some more would help her fall asleep without any more dreams.  Unfortunately, she didn’t know whether she’d actually be able to fall asleep again or not.  As she read and the time passed, she figured she was up for the night and hoped the pages of her book didn’t run out before morning.

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX

A/N: A special thanks to doraemon for beta’ing this story for us and always so quickly.

  [](http://astele.co.uk/TheQuidditchPitch/Chapter/Details/review.php?act=add&story=7099&chapter=3&page=/bedchamber.php)

 


	4. Chapter 4 : The Pensieve

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Four: The Pensieve**

XXXXXXX

Draco lay in bed, thinking about the day.  He could have gone without seeing Hermione or being burned by the door in that girl’s head, but it had ended on a good note – on a rather _excellent_ note.  He couldn’t stop thinking how good Helena’s mouth had felt.  She kissed him, kissed his body, kissed his cock.

Draco’s body involuntarily shuddered as he thought of her warm tongue licking him, from his balls to the head of his dick before taking him full into her mouth.  It was hot, the way she grabbed his arse, pulling him even further into her.  

_Stop it!_ he thought, turning over from his back to his stomach and bunching up his pillow before laying his head back down on it.  He tried to clear his mind of all thoughts so he could sleep, but he just couldn’t shake the memory of the rendezvous he had had with Helena in the loo.  Even though Helena obviously knew what she was doing, Draco couldn’t help but wonder what Ginny would be like in the same situation.  Would she use a nice blend of tongue and hand?  Would she suck on him like a lolly or would she be rough, grazing him lightly with her teeth, causing his heart rate to rise in anxiety?  Since he’d been out of prison she was one of the _very_ few women he’d actually been around so he chalked up his thinking about her to that.  He hadn’t been exposed to too many women since his release.

He turned from his stomach to his side and chuckled to himself as he thought of Harry knocking on the bathroom door as Helena finished up.  She stood up, smoothed out her skirt, reapplied lipstick, and walked out of the door, past Harry without so much as looking at him.  Fortunately, Draco had zipped up his trousers before Harry looked at him.  The look on the Boy Who fucking Lived’s face was priceless.  Draco wondered if Harry would be keeping a closer eye on him from now on.  Hopefully not so that he could have more, as Helena put it, ‘trysts’.  

It took him almost an hour, but Draco managed to finally stop thinking about Ginny and Helena and fall into an uneasy sleep.  He had only been out of prison for a couple of days and the only witches he’d been around were Ginny, Helena, and Hermione.  Hermione was a Mudblood, even if she _had_ married into a pureblood family; he could never think of her sexually.  Ginny and Helena were a different story.  As much as Draco found the idea disgusting, he couldn’t deny that he was much more attracted to Ginny than he was Helena.  Ginny had an innocence, an aloof quality that was very intriguing.  The air she gave off was of inexperience, but Draco was curious whether that was actually true.  And that was what he had to keep shoving out of his head so that he’d be able to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of Harry’s voice yelling at him from down the hall.  Draco rolled his eyes and groaned low in his throat, throwing the blankets off him and stepping onto the cold hardwood floor.  He shut himself in the bathroom and relieved himself in the toilet.  Even though he knew he looked better after chopping off his hair, Draco couldn’t bear to look at his reflection in Harry’s mirror.  It was too frustrating to look at the face of someone who hardly resembled the person he used to be.

‘MALFOY!’ Harry yelled.  ‘WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE AT ST MUNGO’S IN TEN MINUTES!’

Draco cracked his knuckles in frustration and went back into the bedroom and got himself dressed.  As he went back down the hallway towards the living room, he passed by Harry and completely ignored him.  Draco walked past the settee and went straight to the kitchen, taking a piece of bread from the breadbox and covering it in strawberry jam, which was sitting next to the stovetop, already opened.  

‘We don’t have time for that,’ said Harry.

‘I need to eat something or I won’t have the strength to play your Legilimency game.’

‘It’s not a game,’ said Harry.  

Draco didn’t respond.

‘And there won’t be any more episodes like yesterday.’

Draco turned and looked at Harry.  He slowly ate the bread and jam, raising his eyebrows at the annoying man in front of him.

‘The bathroom,’ said Harry.  ‘I realise that you’re given permission to go to the loo by yourself, as long as it’s in the same place where I am, but if you do anything like you did yesterday, you won’t be able to do _anything_ without someone supervising you – and that includes the loo.’

‘If you want to see my cock that badly all you have to do is ask.  You don’t have to follow me to the toilet to do so.’

Harry turned red with anger, but didn’t make a cheeky remark, which disappointed Draco.  

‘Get your jacket.  We’re going _now_.’

XXXXXXX

Ginny sat in her office, sifting through paperwork.  A boy came in earlier that morning, his skin blue with yellow spots and Ginny could not figure out what he ate or drank that made him look like an Easter egg.  She was so engrossed in her work that she jumped when a knock came on her door.

‘Come in.’

Harry opened the door and shut it behind him, looking annoyed and disgruntled.  He wasn’t wearing his usual Auror robes, but rather a button-up shirt tucked into a pair of khaki coloured trousers.  

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Malfoy,’ he muttered, slumping into one of her office chairs and rubbing his eyes.  ‘I can’t deal with him.’

‘He can’t be so bad,’ said Ginny, putting down her quill and re-corking her ink bottle.  ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing in particular,’ replied Harry, looking at her, his green eyes appearing darker than usual.  ‘He’s trying my patience.’

‘He can’t be _that_ bad.’  Ginny was lying right through her teeth.  She was glad that Harry was entrusted with Draco’s custody and not her; she wouldn’t want to deal with it.  ‘Just try to think about how he was when you two were sixth-years.  You pitied him.’

‘Did I?’

‘Sure.  Remember that summer?  Before Bill and Fleur’s wedding?  We sat by the lake, not caring if our clothes got muddy, and talked for something like four hours before someone came looking for us?’

Harry looked away from Ginny, his eyes focusing on his hands.  ‘I remember that.’

‘You pitied him.  You pitied that he was brought up by Death Eaters and not given another chance.  You pitied that he had to go back to his family after having failed by not killing Dumbledore.  I think you felt sorry for him.’

‘I did _not_ feel sorry for Malfoy.  I cannot stand him.’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘Just something to think about.  I know he’s an arrogant little arsehole, but he _is_ helping us out on this case.’

‘I suppose,’ said Harry.  ‘Although that thing with Helena better not happen again.  Tell her to keep away from Malfoy if she knows what’s good for her.’

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows.  What on earth was Harry on about?  He must have noticed the confused look on her face because he said, ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

‘Apparently not.  What happened?’  Ginny’s mind was drawing blanks.  She had no honest idea what the bloody hell Harry could be talking about.

‘I caught them.  In the loo.  Well, I didn’t _see_ anything with my own eyes – and thank God, because if I had I might have given in to the urge to gouge them out – but they were fooling around.’

‘Fooling around?’

‘If I was to make a guess, I would say she went down on him.’

Ginny’s felt her breath catch in her throat.  Helena?  Her friend?  Her _married_ friend?  It didn’t make sense.  ‘Are you sure?  Why would you say that?’

‘The way she wiped the corners of her mouth as she walked past me as she left the loo.  You don’t magically seal a door if you’re not doing something you don’t want someone else walking in on.’

Ginny didn’t know what to think.  She was disgusted.  She was dismayed.  It shouldn’t have shocked her the way it had.  She’d seen the way Draco looked at her friend the day before over breakfast.  She’d _also_ seen the way he looked at _her_ while they ate, watching her mouth, her hands.  Studying her as though she was the most fascinating thing he’d seen in years.  Of course, owing to the fact that the past six years he had spent behind bars, she very well could have been the most interesting thing he’d seen.

‘I’ll tell Helena to watch her back.’

‘Good,’ said Harry.  ‘Are you all right?  You look a little tired.’

‘I’m fine,’ lied Ginny.  She couldn’t tell Harry that she suddenly felt rather ill, especially not when she wasn’t sure why she felt this way.  ‘Are you ready to get started for today?’

‘Yes.  Let’s get this over with.’

‘I have to set some things up with the patient.  Malfoy is supposed to try to break through the door; I’m afraid the girl’s body will react badly to that.  I have to be prepared for any scenario.’

Harry nodded.  ‘Of course.  We’ll wait outside.  Tell us when you’re ready.’

XXXXXXX

It took Ginny almost half an hour to set everything up in the hospital room.  She had magical stones set on the girl’s chest, over her heart, that would hum with every heartbeat.  Her nerves were working overtime and Ginny was worried about what this new invasion into the girl’s head would do to her.  

‘What’re you doing?’

Ginny’s eyes snapped up to the door.  ‘Helena, you really shouldn’t be in here.’

‘What’re you doing?’ she asked again, entering the room and walking over to the young patient.  ‘Is this going to help you find out what’s wrong with her?’

‘Hopefully,’ answered Ginny.  ‘Now, please leave.’

A look of hurt flashed across Helena’s face.  ‘What?’

‘I need you to leave.’

‘Why?  What’s wrong, Gin?  You seem hacked off at me.’

Ginny clutched her wand tightly in her hand out of anger.  ‘Look, I heard what you did with Malfoy—’

‘Oh, Gin, you never thought that I—’

‘—and I find it disgusting.  You’re _married_.’

‘You’re not _that_ innocent, are you, Gin?’ said Helena, tossing her black hair back.  ‘Did you honestly think that everyone who gets married remains faithful?’

‘My parents have been married for over thirty-six years and I’d bet all the Galleons in the world that they’ve never cheated on one another.’

Helena shrugged.  ‘It was just sex.’

‘Just _sex_?’ cried Ginny, appalled.

‘Well, just a little blow job.’

‘Oh my God.’

Helena rolled her eyes.  ‘Ginny, I love my husband, but he’s very boring.  Draco Malfoy’s new and a former Death Eater – he’s a bad boy.’

Ginny snorted.  Bad boy?  The last thing Draco Malfoy was was a bad boy.  A lost man, perhaps, arrogant and insubordinate, but not a bad boy.

‘You’ve had your share of men, so don’t look at me as though you think I’m the world’s biggest whore.’

‘I don’t think you’re the world’s biggest whore,’ said Ginny.  ‘I still find it morally disgusting.’

‘Because I’m married?  Or because it didn’t mean anything?’

‘Because you’re married,’ said Ginny quickly, feeling heat rise in her neck.  She’d had a few wizards in the past few years that didn’t mean anything, that stuck around for a bit of fun, but nothing she did ever broke any vows of marriage.

‘Are you going to stop being friends with me because of one indiscretion?’

‘It wasn’t the first time,’ said Ginny, ‘and I’m sure it won’t be the last.  I’m not going to throw away our friendship because of this.’  Helena looked relieved as Ginny continued, ‘But I don’t think I can go out to dinner with you and your husband ever again.  I don’t think I could look Marcus in the face knowing what I do.’

‘That’s fine.  I need you, Ginny, I really do.  You’re the only normal one in this hell hole of a hospital.’

‘It’s not a hell hole.’

Helena shrugged.  ‘I’ll let you get back to work.’  She straightened her lime green Healer robes as she made her way back towards the door.

‘Tell Malfoy to come in, will you?’

Helena nodded.

Ginny rubbed her eyes as Helena left the room.  She was not the type of person to just drop a friend – especially when that friend didn’t do anything to _her_.  Still, it was going to be difficult to forget what had happened.  If Helena’s morals were so lax regarding her marriage, how lax would they be regarding her friendships?

‘Are you going to stare at the wall all day?’

Ginny snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Draco.  He’d come into the room and shut the door.  The dark bags under his eyes from the first couple days she’d seen him were fading.  He was still too thin and even though he cut his hair, it still didn’t hang as perfectly as she remembered it had in Hogwarts.  But he _did_ look better, much better.  

‘No,’ said Ginny.  ‘Are you going stand there all day?’

Draco walked forward and sat in the chair next to the hospital bed.  ‘I’m not making any promises.  I don’t know how to get through that door.’

‘Just do what Hermione said.  Reach out with your mind.  I talked to her last night and she said you can’t think of it in terms of Legilimency.  You have to try to believe it’s a tangible door and use your hands to destroy the rune or change it or something.  You look a little scared.’

Draco sat up straight in the chair.  ‘I’m not scared, but I’m not going to pretend that this is fun for me.  Because it’s not.  It makes me exhausted and gives me headaches.’

‘Don’t worry.  I have a potion to help your head when you’re done today.  I’m going to be monitoring you as well as the girl.’

‘Fine.  Let’s get this over with.’

Ginny nodded.  She stood back and watched.  Draco took hold of the girl’s arm and gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white.  His eyes closed and she heard his breathing turn deep and slow.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then thirty.

Ginny’s mind wandered.  She couldn’t keep herself focused on Draco and the girl.  Her thoughts went to Helena.  What the other witch had said was true; Ginny wasn’t inexperienced; she wasn’t innocent.  Still, it was hard for Ginny not to be shocked that someone would go against the sanctity of marriage.  Ginny would never knowingly do anything with a married man.  She hoped that her husband – if she ever got married – would never have a wandering eye, or wandering anything else, either.

Last week before Draco had come into the picture, Ginny had gone on her third date with a rather dull wizard named Mathias Brown, a very distant cousin of Lavender.  She wouldn’t have returned his owls if he hadn’t been such an amazing kisser.  The way he ran his tongue across hers made her knees feel like jelly.  Three dates was torture, but Ginny had a Three Date Rule.  Men were never allowed in her bed unless they were able to make it through three dates together.  Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  A couple had slipped past the rules, but Ginny never returned their owls.  She felt that if she was going to truly be with someone then she shouldn’t bring them home too quickly.

Mathias Brown was as amazing in bed as he was at kissing.  If only his personality was as interesting as his sexual techniques.  He owled her the next day, asking for another date.  Ginny was tempted to owl him back, but she knew they would never work out.  She liked to have a good time, but she needed more than that.  She needed someone interesting and intelligent.  Unfortunately, it seemed as though her mother was right; wizards didn’t want witches who didn’t _need_ them.  And she didn’t _need_ a man in her life.  She wanted one, for sure, but she knew she gave off an air of complete independence that a lot of the wizards she met didn’t seem to like.  Mathias didn’t seem to care, but Ginny just couldn’t pretend there was something there when there wasn’t anything there at all.

Ohh, but he was so _good_ at the things he did.  With this case and Draco out of prison to help, Ginny hadn’t had much time to think about Mathias and the fact that it had been a week and a half since he last owled her.

Suddenly the stones began to hum with erratic speed.  All the alarms Ginny had set began to go off.  The colour was completely gone from both the girl’s and Draco’s faces.  Ginny was about to put a stop to the whole thing when the girl’s body began to shake and convulse and Draco let go of her arm as he fell back over his chair with a great bang.  

Blood dripped out of the girl’s nose and ears.  Ginny tapped her wand against the stones, trying to get them to hum into the time of a normal heartbeat.  She cleaned the blood off the girl’s face.  There was bound to be even more brain damage after that, but to what extent, Ginny had no idea.

She turned to Draco.  He was still passed out, so she Conjured up a bed and curtains to section it off from the other patients in the room.  It was probably best to just let him sleep it off and wake up on his own.

Ginny slipped out of the room.  Harry was sitting in a chair in the corridor, reading through _The Quibbler_.  When he saw her, he put the magazine down and jumped up from his seat. 

‘What happened?’

‘Draco passed out—’

‘ _What_?’

Ginny put her hands up, gesturing for Harry to calm down.  ‘I think he’s going to be fine, but I’d rather he wake up on his own.  Whatever he had to do to access those memories took a toll on his body.  Why don’t you come with me to the storage room?  There’s always a couple of extra Pensieves.’

‘St Mungo’s has extra Pensieves lying around?’

Ginny smiled and nodded.  ‘Sure.  Sometimes people don’t accurately remember what went wrong when they made a potion or did a spell, so if they extract their memories and the Healers have a look, we can figure out what happened to them.’

‘So, why don’t you just use Pensieves for your work?’

‘Because if someone drinks a potion that they didn’t make then they won’t know how it was made.  Which is where my job as a diagnostician comes in.  Let’s go.’

Ginny took hold of Harry’s upper arm and led him down the corridor towards the stairs.  

‘Is living with Draco getting any easier?’ asked Ginny.

‘I don’t like him at my flat.  I don’t know how George is going to react when he gets back from France.’

‘Didn’t you tell him?’

Harry nodded.  ‘I owled him and explained that the Ministry put Malfoy in my charge ... but, uh, I haven’t heard back from him.  I hope he got the letter.’

‘Did you send it with Hedwig?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I’m sure he got it.  Perhaps he’s spending more time in France, waiting for Draco to leave.  You can’t blame any of my family for not wanting to be around Draco as awful as he was to us in the past.’

‘Believe me,’ said Harry, opening up the door to the stairwell, ‘I know.  It’s only been a couple of days, but Malfoy just being in my house is grating on my nerves.’

‘I’m sorry.  Just think of the good it’ll do.  We’ll find out what’s happened to those girls and maybe even prevent it from happening again.  This is the floor – come on, let’s get that Pensieve.’

XXXXXXX

Ginny got Draco a full meal from the hospital kitchens and gave him a couple of potions to help him regain some of his strength.  Unfortunately, most of the potions were geared towards regaining physical strength, not mental strength.  

Once he’d rested and eaten, colour crept back into his face.  Ginny gave him the Pensieve and watched as he placed her wand at his temple and extracted a long silvery strand from his head, placing it in the bowl.

‘Did you get it all?’ asked Ginny.

Draco nodded and lay back on the bed, thrusting the wand back into Ginny’s hand.

‘You and Potter have fun with that,’ he spat.  ‘I’m done helping you lot with this stupid case.  Fuck it.  I’m done.’

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Draco turned over, his back towards Ginny.  Ginny looked behind her at Harry, who was sitting near the door.  She shrugged and picked up the Pensieve.  

Harry took his wand out of his pocket and Conjured a table for Ginny to place the Pensieve on.  

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Uh, what?’

‘Aren’t you going to look at it with me?’

Ginny swallowed.  ‘Er, I wasn’t planning on it.’

‘It’s probably a good idea,’ said Harry.  ‘You can better assess what’s wrong with them physically if you figure out what’s happened to them mentally, right?’

‘Well ... yes.  But you can _tell_ me.’

Harry crossed his arms over his chest.  ‘ _Gin_.’

‘Ohh, all right,’ consented Ginny.  She wasn’t looking forward to seeing what was inside the Pensieve but she knew that it was a good idea to see it.  Taking Harry’s hand, Ginny felt herself fall into the Pensieve.  

Immediately, she saw Draco floating around in front of her, surrounded by closed doors.  He went towards a door with a strange-looking symbol on it.  His face contorted in pain as he touched the door, scratching at the symbol until it was scraped off.  Draco’s hands were burnt and bleeding, even though when Ginny checked him, his hands were fine.  Inside the Pensieve, or when Draco was in the girl’s head, reality was different.  

Once the symbol was off the door, Draco pushed through it; Harry and Ginny followed.  Ginny felt nervous.  She had no idea what she was going to see on the other side of the door and she wasn’t sure she wanted to see.

Memory-Draco stood by the door, watching, and Harry and Ginny did the same.  

A girl with long, curly hair lay in her bed, sleeping, her chest moving up and down in slow rhythm.  Her body was covered with a knitted blue blanket.  The room was reminiscent of someone who had just recently become an adult.  She had a chest of drawers covered in picture frames from school.  The girl in the photographs had two plaits falling down her back and a large smile on her face.  She was surrounded by other girls and a couple boys; everyone looked happy.  The walls had posters of musicians and Quidditch players, but the posters looked old, the edges beginning to get a bit torn.  

The pictures and the posters reminded Ginny of someone young, but the books on the shelves were all new and thick and very technical, all about very advanced spells and potions.  On the bedside table was a potion bottle.  Ginny wished she could take the potion and see what it was, but nothing in the Pensieve was tangible.

The girl’s breathing hitched and Ginny’s attention was turned back towards the bed.  As though out of thin air, a man was in the room.  His hands pulled on the blanket until it fell off the foot of the bed.  Fingers ran up the girl’s bare legs and pushed at her knees, opening her up.  The girl didn’t move, but her face contorted into a look of pain and fear, her breathing becoming laboured.

The man’s face was dark; he looked almost featureless.  His hands went from her knees to her knickers, tearing them off with a loud _rip_!  Next, he pushed up her nightgown until she was completely exposed.  

Ginny closed her eyes, not wanting to see any more.  Harry’s fingers dug into her arm as he watched.  She looked at him; his eyes looked upset and he looked as though he was forcing them to stay open.  Ginny heard throaty screams and low grunts as the bed squeaked under the weight of two bodies.  Tears sprang to Ginny’s eyes and she listened for several minutes as the squeaking and grunting continued.  Then, the bed stopped making noise and instead of screams, a choked-sound filled the air.  

Without being able to help herself, Ginny’s eyes went back towards the memory.  The girl lay on her bed, tears running down her face, her mouth letting out short sobs.  Without warning, her sobs stopped, and the girl lay there, motionless.  

‘I think we’ve seen enough,’ said Harry.

As they left the Pensieve and re-entered the room, Ginny felt sick.  She couldn’t imagine how Harry must feel, having witnessed the whole thing.

‘Have fun, did you?’ snarled Draco from his bed.

‘Loads,’ said Harry, picking up the Pensieve.  ‘Let’s talk in your office.’

Ginny nodded.  ‘We’ll be just a moment, Draco.  D’you need anything?  More water or food?  You still look rather—’

‘I’m fine,’ he interrupted.

Ginny shrugged and followed Harry out the door.  In the corridor, Helena came walking up.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ said Helena.  She had taken off her standard-issue St Mungo’s robes and wore a skirt and a very clingy jumper.  ‘Your shift ended twenty minutes ago.  Want to go grab some dinner?  Marcus has some boring Ministry meeting and I thought you could keep me company.’

‘Uh, sure, Helena.  I just need to wrap some stuff up with Harry.  We should be done in a few minutes, if you want to wait.’

Helena nodded.  ‘All right.  I’ll just wait outside your office, then.’

Ginny looked at Harry and he nodded.  She opened her office door and sat down behind her desk.  Harry took a seat across from her, setting the Pensieve down on top of a stack of parchment.

‘Rape,’ he said.

‘Yeah.’

‘So, what now?  With the victims, I mean.’

‘Well, I’ll have to check them physically, I suppose, to see if there’re any physical signs of rape.  If not, then we’ll have to assume that someone is literally raping their minds.  Which, I also assume, is what is causing so much trauma.’  A shiver flew down Ginny’s spine.  ‘This whole thing disgusts me.  I can understand why Draco doesn’t want to participate any longer.’

‘He’ll have to.’

‘I know, but if I was him, I would boycott.  That mustn’t have been pleasant to witness.’

‘It wasn’t,’ said Harry darkly.  ‘It was rather disturbing.  I’ve never seen anyone raped before.  I don’t fancy seeing it again.  Usually when things like this happen we – I mean the Aurors – come in at the _end_.  We don’t actually _see_ these things happen.’

‘Tomorrow I’ll check over the girls, see if they have any physical signs of sexual assault.  What’ll you do?’

‘Check in with Kingsley.  See what he thinks should happen next.  We have to keep this all very quiet.  We can’t let the whole magical world know that there’s someone out there waiting to mentally rape unsuspecting witches.’

‘Isn’t that something we _should_ tell people?’

Harry shook his head.  ‘It could create a mass panic.  We don’t want anyone to know until we have a clear idea of _who_ we’re dealing with.  That’s the best policy, I think.  Kingsley is head of the Auror Division, so the choice is ultimately his.’

‘I don’t think I can handle any more tonight.  I’ll go check on Draco and you two can head on back home.  I need a drink anyway so going out with Helena might be the best thing for me.’

‘Hide this somewhere,’ said Harry, motioning towards the Pensieve.

Ginny opened up one of her desk drawers and carefully placed the Pensieve inside.  ‘All right, let’s go.’

She followed Harry out her office door, but to her surprise, Helena wasn’t waiting for her in the corridor.  She went to check on the victims, which took almost thirty minutes, and then on Draco.  She gave him the okay to go ahead and leave St Mungo’s.  He didn’t thank her – Ginny didn’t expect that he would – but tied up his shoes and held his head high as the three of them walked to the stairs and down towards the ground floor.  They passed the welcome desk and were almost at the front windows when several lights flashed on and off in their faces.

‘Mr Potter!’  

‘Miss Weasley!’

‘Mr Malfoy!’

A good ten voices called out their names from all over the front entrance to the hospital.

‘What can you tell us about this Legilimency rapist?’

‘Are our daughters at risk?’

‘How many victims do you have so far?’

‘When do you expect the rapist to strike again?’

Ginny’s eyes widened in shock.  She stared up at Harry who looked equally speechless.

‘There must have been a leak to the media!’ she cried out.  ‘Now what do we do?’

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

  
XXXXXXX


	5. Chapter 5 : The Game Begins

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Five: The Game Begins**

XXXXXXX

Newly appointed Healer-in-Charge of the entire hospital, Hippocrates Smethwyck, folded his hands on top of the conjured-up conference table.  Next to him were two Assistant Healers-in-Charge, both of whom were rubbing their chins with confused expressions on their faces.

‘Miss Weasley,’ said Basil Blaxom, ‘I’m very confused.  Your job is to assess conditions unknown and come up with a diagnosis, which you then report to the Healer-in-Charge of that ward.  You went against all guidelines by not reporting your diagnosis—’

‘I might have gone against hospital guidelines,’ interrupted Ginny, ‘but the Ministry gave me strict instructions not to say anything to anyone about what was going on.’

‘Who at the Ministry gave you those instructions?’ asked Smethwyck, raising his eyebrows.  

‘You thought it was a good idea?  We could have offered those witches some help if we’d only known—’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Ginny, interrupting again.  ‘Look, all I knew is that something happened mentally to them.  That’s why the Ministry brought in Draco Malfoy to use Legilimency on them.  Now that I know what happened to the one girl, I can assume that similar things happened to the others and we can work on a cure.’

‘And who leaked it to the media?’ asked Basil.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ginny honestly, although she had a fairly good idea who did it.  She glanced up at the clock on the wall.  By now there would be a press conference in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.  She wanted to be there, but by the looks of the meeting with her superiors, she was going to have to read all about the press conference in the newspapers.

‘Miss Weasley, you’re a valued member of the St Mungo’s staff,’ said Smethwyck.  ‘We’re very lucky to have you as an employee, but if you _ever_ do something like this again - and I cannot reiterate enough how disappointed I am in you - those nice big deposits of Galleons we put into your Gringotts vault every month will disappear faster than you can say _sacked_.’

‘For the next two weeks you are on suspension,’ added Basil.

Ginny nodded, now feeling even glummer.

‘I just had a conversation via Floo with the Minister for Magic,’ said Smethwyck, ‘and he has requested that you assist on this case.  He fears there will be more victims and there is a need for a Healer.  I’ve agreed to extend your Healer skills to the Auror team for the time being, but you’re still on call here at the hospital, understood?’

Ginny nodded.

‘Good.  I think we’ve been here long enough.  It’s already way past dinnertime.  My wife said she will have my kneecaps if I’m late one more time.  Last time she charmed my kneecaps off, it took three days to find them.’  Smethwyck stood up along with his two Assistant Healers-in-Charge.  ‘Good night to you, then.’

XXXXXXX

Back across London, in a small flat, a witch named Cecilia was looking at a thick silver flask, taking in deep breaths.  She hadn’t slept in days.  She’d stopped eating.  She knew she looked terrible, with black rings under her eyes, her skin blotchy with acne from not showering in days, her hair in tight, greasy ringlets around her head.  

_Just take the potion_ , said a voice inside her head.  _You need to sleep_.

_But I don’t want to dream_ , another voice argued.

_Just take it.  If you don’t sleep, you’re going to lose your job.  Then you’ll have to go back to Daddy_.

_But if I dream, what good will that do me?_

_You haven’t dreamt in days._

_I haven’t slept in days!_

In the end, Cecilia put the flask to her lips and drank.  The potion was supposed to induce a dreamless sleep, but she wasn’t keeping her hopes up that the potion was powerful enough to keep her nightmares at bay.  The flask fell from her fingers and landed on the rug, tumbling out of sight.  She stumbled towards the bed, banging her knee on the leg of her desk, and landed in a heap.  Her hands reached for the blankets and barely had time to draw them over herself before she fell asleep.

The blackness was inviting and for hours, Cecilia slept without so much as a thought.  Her body was warm, her breathing even, her thoughts none.  Through the dark, a hand moved across her stomach, circling her naval, and went under her t-shirt, grabbing hold of her left breast.  Cecilia whimpered and tried to move, but she was paralysed, just as she had been the times before.

She couldn’t figure out why she was dreaming again; the dreamless potion should have prevented that.  Yet, here she was, having these invasive dreams once again.

The hand wasn’t just cupping her breast this time; it squeezed her, rolling her nipple between its fingers, too rough for comfort.  The hands were definitely male, with thick fingers and rough palms.

Her breast suddenly felt cold air as the hand ripped itself away from her chest and moved down to the elastic of her pyjama bottoms.  Two hands pulled at her clothes until they were completely off and pushed her knees apart.  

Cecilia couldn’t breathe.  She attempted to calm down, but she wasn’t able to.  Since her body wouldn’t move, Cecilia tried to wake herself up; she pushed with her mind, thought about removing the hands, but nothing changed.

Her knees shook as they were held down and one of the offending hands touched the apex of her thighs, touching the hair between her legs.  She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, as the fingers moved inside her, hurting her.

She pushed harder with her mind, thinking the hands away, thinking herself awake.  The more she pushed, the less she felt the fingers against her.  A deep laugh echoed in her head and a voice ... a voice she vaguely recognised.  

_It’s your fault_ , it said to her inside her head.  _I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you._

Then, the hands disappeared and the laugh vanished.

As though popping like a cork from a champagne bottle, Cecilia pushed herself out of the dream.  She gasped as she woke and looked down at herself.  It was just a dream; she was still fully dressed in her pyjamas.

She felt the pull of sleep trying to bring her under again, so she jumped up off her bed.  She took her blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders, and began to pace.  There were seven hours left until sunrise, eight hours until she had to be at work, and she needed to find a way to stay awake.  Her feet took her through her hallway and into her kitchen.  She got out the coffee, mixed it with the water, and charmed it hot.  For the next several hours she paced and drank as much caffeine as she could, trying to push the dreams away from her memory, but still able to feel those offending hands all over her body ... touching ... invading ... 

Cecilia shuddered and poured herself another cup.

XXXXXXX

**SECRETS ABOUND IN THE MINISTRY:**

**A MENTAL RAPIST ON THE LOOSE**

**Written By: Georgia Woolsworth**

**STAFF WRITER**

_In a press conference yesterday evening at the Ministry of Magic, Senior Aurors Harry Potter and Nymphadora T. Lupin revealed that an unlicensed Legilimens has been wreaking havoc over single witches in magical London.  Four known victims, all young witches, lie unconscious in St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

_Also revealed at the press conference was the fact that the Ministry is clueless as to the identity of this unlicensed Legilimens.  They say they are using all their resources to find the perpetrator, but it is still not reassuring.  The most powerful magical Ministry in the world is the British Ministry of Magic, so why haven’t they found this criminal?  Why have they been covering it up?_

_Harry Potter can be quoted as saying, ‘There has been no cover-up.  We didn’t release any notice of this because we didn’t want there to be a panic.’  If the Department of Magical Law Enforcement did not want to raise a panic, they failed miserably.  The wizard community has already begun to panic and begun to be fearful for their mothers, daughters, and sisters._

_In an attempt to appease the public, the Ministry says they will release an official booklet on warning signs of a Legilimency crime once said signs have been identified._

_According to Nymphadora T. Lupin, a profile of the suspected Legilimens will also be released soon_.

XXXXXXX

‘Fuck,’ said Harry, throwing the newspaper across the table.  He slammed his fist down, causing the coffee mugs to shake.  Ginny looked at her watch.  It was eight in the morning; the owl had just dropped off the _Daily Prophet_ to Harry in the meeting room at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Ginny, picking up the paper and reading through it.  ‘It doesn’t sound so bad.’

Draco reached across the table for the paper and picked it up, his fingers brushing against Ginny’s hand as he did so.  She jumped and stared at him, but he seemed completely unaware that he touched her.  Determined not to show any reaction, Ginny looked down at her lap, fingering a small hole in her jeans.  She’d been so tired this morning that she forgot her Healer robes at her flat; luckily she kept an extra set in her office, but she still looked like a Muggle this morning, in jeans and an old t-shirt.  She hadn’t done laundry in almost two weeks.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ repeated Harry, removing his Auror robes and throwing them on the table.  He adjusted the collar of the black polo shirt he wore underneath.  ‘It makes it sound as though there’s a reason to panic.  It makes it sound as though we actually covered it up on purpose--’

‘You did cover it up, you git,’ said Draco, his eyes still on the paper.  

‘Not because of the reason the press thinks we did.’  Harry ran his hands through his short hair.  ‘Okay, Gin, my superiors talked to your superiors and you’re officially assigned to the case.  If there are any other victims or crime scenes, you’re supposed to accompany us, assess the girls affected ... y’know, do your job.  Plus, you still have to help Malfoy.’

Ginny raised her eyebrows.  ‘I know, they told me.’

Draco lowered the paper.  ‘What?’

‘You seem to be physically affected when you use Legilimency.  We need a Healer around to make sure you don’t die.  It would be such a shame if you did.’

Draco lifted the paper again, apparently keeping all his comments to himself.

Ginny frowned.  She wasn’t particularly keen on being a bigger part of the case.  She hadn’t been keen on the idea last night, but the meeting with the Healers-in-Charge last night had gone on far past dinner and by the time she got home and went through her normal night time rituals it was past one o’clock; that hardly left her time to dwell on being a part of the case.  Ginny was tired, her hair looked frizzy from the rain outside, and she had had awful dreams about what she witnessed in the Pensieve.  The last thing Ginny wanted was to continue that lifestyle and she got the feeling that losing sleep and being stressed out was going to come with the new job.  

‘You’ll really be helping me out, y’know,’ said Harry.

‘Oh, fine,’ relented Ginny.  ‘Where’s Tonks, anyway?’

‘She always comes into the office around ten,’ answered Harry.  ‘It’s not as though we have a required time to come in.  I just wanted to get here early enough to get the _Prophet_ first thing.’

‘I see.  So, what’s the plan for today?’ asked Ginny.

‘We need to look at everything we know so far about the crimes and try to make a rough profile of the guy we’re looking for,’ replied Harry.  ‘We also need to extensively interview friends and family of the four girls who are in St Mungo’s right now and try to find a connection between them.  I know there’s no connection right now, but there has to be something, even if it’s a minute one, like they all shop at the same store for dress robes.’

‘Interviewing people could take a very long time,’ sighed Ginny.

‘I know, but--’  Harry stopped as the door to the meeting room opened and Kingsley walked in.

‘There’re over a hundred letters on your desk,’ he said.

‘What?’  Harry stood up, confusion riddled on his face.

‘Did you read the _Prophet_?’

‘Yes, of course--’

‘Then you read that the newspaper told everyone to contact the Ministry if they think someone they know has been affected by the Legilimency rapist.  You have over a hundred letters on your desk, Potter.  There’re feathers all over my department from all these owls.  Take care of it.  _Now_.’

Kingsley shut the door with a rather loud _bang_ and Harry groaned in frustration.  

‘I suppose that’s another thing we can add to the list of things to do - go through the owls and find out if there’re any credible “victims” out there.’

‘I suppose I can say goodbye to my social life, then,’ Ginny complained.  ‘This case is going to consume me, I can already tell.’

Draco snorted.  ‘Did you have a social life to begin with?’

‘Of course I did!’ snapped Ginny.

‘Outside of that twit Helena?’

‘She’s not a twit--’

‘Speaking of Helena,’ said Harry.  ‘Did she go to the press?’

‘Er, yeah ...  She was sitting outside of my office when we were talking about the case,’ said Ginny.  ‘She said she did it because the wizard community had a right to know.  She did it to protect everyone, so that London will be on lookout for the Legilimens.  _I_ said that it was none of her business, but I couldn’t give her a timeline as to when you would have released the information.  I didn’t know if you actually would or not.’

‘He wouldn’t,’ said Draco.  ‘Did you know there was a break-in at Flourish and Blotts?’

‘Will you just shut up and read the paper in silence?’ snarled Harry.

‘Oh, grow up, Potter.’

‘I think you _both_ need to grow up,’ said Ginny.  ‘Your bickering is giving me a headache.  You’re as bad as Ron and Hermione.’

‘Bite your tongue!’ 

‘You’re both giving me a headache.’  Ginny crossed her arms over her chest.

‘ _Speaking of Helena_ ,’ said Harry through clenched teeth.  ‘She’s been getting on my last nerve.  Keep her away from the investigation - both of you.’

Ginny glanced at Draco who merely shrugged.  She would have thought being ordered to stay away from Helena would have outraged him, but he didn’t seem to care.  

Harry rubbed his eyes.  ‘I think this case is going to be the hardest case I’ve ever worked.’

‘How much longer do you need me?’ Draco asked.

‘Until the case is solved.  If there’re any new victims, we need your Legilimency skills.’

Draco scowled.  

‘I need to get to work.  I may not have any new patients, but I have loads of reports and charts to write up.  Why don’t I take Draco to St Mungo’s and he can read the other victims’ minds to make sure they have the same rape scenario imbedded in their heads.’

Draco looked alarmed.  ‘I have to do the other _three_ today?  In the same day?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Ginny, shaking her head.  ‘I don’t think that would be wise.  I think don’t you should do more than one.  I don’t know if you can physically handle any more than that.’

Draco’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. 

‘We need that done as soon as possible,’ said Harry, a rough tone to his voice.

‘As a Healer, I’m not allowing him to do more than one girl a day.  You don’t want him to burn out or pass out again, but this time for several days.  And don’t give me that look, Harry Potter, you know I’m right.’

Harry let out a breath and nodded.  ‘I know.’

‘You get mean when you’re stressed out.  You need to learn to let go and calm down.’

Harry only nodded.

Ginny stood up.  ‘Okay, good, so we’ll go to St Mungo’s and you start work on ... whatever it is you’re going to work on.  We’ll meet up, when?’

‘Let’s meet at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch at two.  I’ll get Hermione to come.  She knows a lot about psychology and can help us with a profile.  Actually, she knows more than a lot.  You know our Hermione - the overachiever.  Ron said she got bored one day and decided to take all these classes on psychology and the psychological development of children at a Muggle university.  Future knowledge for when she and Ron decide to have kids.’

‘I don’t know how she fits any more knowledge into her head than is already there,’ said Ginny, rather amazed that Hermione found the time to go to school on top of her job at the Department of Mysteries doing - well, whatever it was that she did.  ‘Anyway, we’ll see you at two o’clock.’

Harry said his goodbyes and Ginny led Draco out of the meeting room and back towards the lifts so they could get to the Atrium.  Ginny hated the awkward feeling between her and Draco, but she wasn’t sure what to do about the uneasiness.  

The lift doors opened, but Ginny was hardly paying attention.  A familiar blonde head emerged from the lift, a stack of parchment in his arms.  He stopped in front of Ginny and his brown eyes widened.

‘Ginny!’

It took Ginny a moment to focus her thoughts and her jaw dropped in surprise.

‘Mathias!  Hi!’

Mathias Brown, the wizard she’d gone on a date with almost two weeks ago, brought home to her bed, and then ignored his owl, stood in front of her.  He was very good looking and Ginny was reminded of how good he was in bed, physically satisfying her more than even Harry ever had.  Not that Harry had done anything wrong, but Ginny was the girl he had learned to do everything on.  She was the first girl he’d touched, the first girl he shagged.  They used each other to further educate themselves in the art of sex, which had been fine with Ginny because it always proved to be a good time.  Once Harry learned everything, the sex had been fantastic, but Mathias was just different and very, very good.

‘What’re you doing here?’

‘Er, meeting,’ Ginny said, stumbling over her words, ‘because, y’know, I have to diagnose people at St Mungo’s and sometimes send reports here if there’s been an illegal poisoning or ... something.  What’re you doing here?’

‘I work here.’

‘Right,’ said Ginny, feeling absolutely ridiculous.  

Mathias held up the stack of parchment.  ‘There’re so many memos here that it seemed pointless to make over hundreds of paper airplanes to send to all the staff, so I just figured I’d drop one off to each employee.  There’re so many employees in each Department.  I mean, you have the Department of Mysteries ... Magical Games ... Law Enforcement ... Creatures ... and there’re so many employees in each Department.  I have a list somewhere of everyone and I have to check off  each name once they get a memo.  Say, you didn’t return my owl.’

‘What?’ asked Ginny dumbly, knowing that her eyes had probably glazed over sometime during Mathias’ speech.  

‘The owl I sent the day after our last date?’

Oh.  Right.  I know.  I’ve been meaning to, I’m sorry.  Work at the hospital has been keeping me busy.  I’ve been getting there before my shifts and staying several hours after they’re over.  Haven’t had any time to sit down and owl you back.’

Next to her, Draco snorted.  Ginny ignored him.  Truth was, Mathias lacked any social skills.  If someone had slipped some Brain Freezing Draught into her wine, it could not have made her more mind-numbingly bored.

‘I had such a good time when we went back to your flat.  I was hoping we could do that again.’

Ginny glanced at Draco whose eyes grew quite large in surprise.

‘Well, yes, it _was_ fun.  When things calm down at work I’ll give you an owl.’

He leaned in closely and whispered in her ear, although loud enough that Ginny was sure Draco could hear, ‘You’re definitely one of the most, um, talented girls I’ve been with.  I don’t want it to be a one time thing.’

‘No,’ lied Ginny, ‘me neither.  Er, we need to get back to St Mungo’s.’

‘We?’

‘Oh, um, yeah.  This is--’

‘I’m Abraxas Malfoy,’ said Draco.  ‘I work at St Mungo’s too.  Apprenticing to be a diagnostician just like Ginny.’

Mathias nodded.  ‘Right, of course.  Well, have a good day.  I look forward to getting your owl.’  He walked further into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, handing out pieces of parchment left and right.

Ginny let out a breath and shook her head in disbelief.  She knew she’d looked like an idiot.  The lift doors were still open, so she got in quickly, hoping to escape the memory of encountering Mathias Brown.

Draco had a mischievous looking grin plastered across his face.

‘What?’ snapped Ginny.

‘Was that a one-night stand?’

Ginny ignored his question and asked one of her own instead.  ‘ _Abraxas_ Malfoy?’

‘Some people know my name.  They know I was in Azkaban.  Abraxas was my grandfather’s name.  No harm in lying, is there?’

‘Of course there’s harm in lying!’

‘Oh, because you weren’t lying when you said you’d owl that wizard back?  I’m surprised, Weasley.  You come across as almost innocent or reserved.’  Draco reached over and pressed the button that would take the lift down to the Atrium.  His arm slid against Ginny’s as he did so.  ‘That bloke seemed as though he had personality to spare.’

Ginny easily detected the sarcasm in Draco’s voice, but she wasn’t about to discuss her sexual history with him.  As far as she was concerned, the conversation was over.  As the lift doors opened, she looked at Draco and said, ‘Let’s just get to St Mungo’s, all right?’

XXXXXXX

When Draco pulled out of the second witch’s head, he felt dizzy and sick to his stomach.  He snatched Ginny’s wand from her and put it to his temple, immediately extracting the memories from his head and placing them in the Pensieve.  They were the same as the ones in the first girl he’d done the day before and they were every bit as disturbing.  Once he was done removing his memories in long, silvery strands, Ginny took her wand back.  

‘How do you feel?’ she asked.

‘Like a Hippogriff just stomped on my head.’

‘Well, come on and lie down and drink this.’  She held out a flask of foul-smelling potion.  ‘It should take the headache away.’

He took it from her, making sure to touch her fingers as he did so.  Earlier that day when they were at the Ministry, he’d accidentally touched her twice.  Both times she had jumped in surprise.  This time, Draco was interested to see what her reaction was going to be since she didn’t seem revolted at his touch.

The potion tasted as bad as it smelled, but almost immediately his headache seemed to melt away.  He untied his shoes and lay down on his back in the bed Ginny conjured up behind a set of curtains.  

‘Was it the same thing?  The ... rape thing, I mean.’

Draco turned his head and looked at Ginny.  Her skin looked the colour of cream and equally as soft.  The lights in the room made her ginger hair look as though it had streaks of gold in it.  For some reason, today, even though she looked thoroughly exhausted, Ginny seemed more attractive than she ever had before.  

‘It was the same,’ he answered.  ‘Small differences, maybe, but the same thing.’

‘I’ve never used a Pensieve,’ said Ginny.  ‘D’you still remember everything once the memories are gone?’

Draco shook his head.  ‘I can’t remember distinctions, but I know the gist of what happened.’

‘What’s it like?’

‘Taking out a memory?  I suppose it would be like someone telling you about an event and you were not actually there, but you can imagine what happened by what people tell you.  It’s fucking mad, that’s what.  I shouldn’t have to be using my Legilimency skills for this, for one, and for another thing, whoever had the daft idea of a Pensieve not completely removing your memory was an idiot.’

Ginny frowned.  ‘I’m sorry you have to do this, but think of it as redemption.’

‘Redemption for what?’

‘For whatever put you in Azkaban.  Kidnapping and murder, wasn’t it?’

Draco stared hard at Ginny.  Stupid witch didn’t know what she was talking about.  If only she knew the truth about why he’d been sent to Azkaban.  Of course, he doubted she’d actually believe him.  Although ‘kidnapping and murder’ sounded awful.  

‘You think watching girls get raped is redemption?  That’s fucked up, Weasley.’

Ginny recoiled a bit.  ‘I’ll let you sleep for a bit.  There’re a couple hours before we have to meet Harry and Hermione for lunch, so ... um ... yeah.’  Ginny shut the curtains around Draco’s bed and left the room.

Draco shut his eyes and willed sleep to come.  He thought about that idiot he met by the lifts at the Ministry.  _Mathias_.  What an idiot name.  The discomfort had oozed from Ginny.  If she was as talented as Mathias said she was, Draco’s interested was definitely piqued.  The Idiot seemed completely dull.  No one needed to hear his longwinded reason for not making those office memos into airplanes.  The Idiot should really be referred to as the Boring Idiot.  He looked as though he was their age, twenty-five or twenty-six, and he was doing the job that Hogwarts students home for holidays looking for a couple extra Galleons did.  

There was no way he was going to take a nap; he was too wired.  Doing Legilimency didn’t make him feel as badly as it had the day before.  He still didn’t want to try it on the last two girls yet, though.  Besides, Draco wasn’t keen on being treated like a patient or a child.  When he signed the magical contract to get out of jail, Draco knew that there would be consequences if he broke any of the custody rules.  Since Harry gave Ginny the right to watch over him until lunchtime, she was in charge.  Draco wasn’t sure if by leaving the hospital room there would be any repercussions.  Normally he wouldn’t care about breaking the rules; he used to break them constantly, but there was no way he was going back to Azkaban.  

Finally deciding to go in search for Ginny, Draco got up and slipped his shoes back on his feet.  He opened the door and walked into the corridor.  Ginny’s office was close so he crossed the hallway and knocked on her door.  She mumbled a ‘come in’ and Draco entered her office.  Somewhere between leaving the hospital room and coming to her office, Ginny had plaited her hair and for the first time, Draco noticed she had a small bit of fringe that fell over her forehead and into her eyes.

‘I’m not going to be able to fall asleep.’

‘Come to piss and moan about it, then?’ said Ginny.

‘I’m bored.’

‘You’re not a child.  I’m sure you can find something to entertain yourself with.’

Draco sat down in a chair across from Ginny’s desk.  ‘Oh?  And what do you suggest?  I might remind you that I’m not allowed a wand and not allowed to leave whoever’s custody I’m in.  I could probably roam around St Mungo’s since you’re in the hospital building, but do you really want me to do that?’

Ginny dropped the quill she was writing with on her desk and tilted her head to the side, looking at him very intently.  

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘fair enough.  I do have to check in on a patient that I assessed last week who isn’t responding to the antidote he’s been given.  I’m afraid there might not _be_ an antidote.  You can, er, tag along, I suppose, if you want.’

Draco shrugged.  ‘I have nothing else to do while Potter does whatever it is he’s doing.’

‘He’s probably contacting all the victims’ friends and family to set up interviews.’  Ginny stood up and took her green Healer robes from the hook on the back of her office door and threw them on over her shoulders. ‘Let’s go.’

Draco walked with Ginny down the corridor.  She had her hands in the pockets of her robes and looked so tired.  She went into a private hospital room where a teenaged boy sat on top of his blankets, sketching with a magical pencil on charmed paper.  Draco remembered having similar pencils and papers when he was a kid.  He could draw anything and then use his mum’s wand and make his drawings move about the page.

‘Hello, Gawain,’ said Ginny. 

The young boy looked up and smiled.  ‘Hi!’

‘I see the swelling in your hands went down.’

‘Yeah, they’re no longer blue either, but my ears haven’t come back yet.  I’m surprised I can even hear you.’

‘Your eardrums are in your head.  They didn’t disappear.’

‘My, er, you know, is still blue, though.’

Draco had to bite back a laugh.  ‘Your _what_ is still blue?’

Gawain’s cheeks turned a bright tomato red.

‘Don’t pay any attention to him,’ said Ginny.  ‘What about your tongue?’

Gawain stuck his tongue out.  It was the same colour as Ginny’s Healer robes.

‘It keeps changing colours,’ he said.

‘The same thing happened to Goyle back at Hogwarts when he didn’t read Snape’s instructions on how to make one of the lesser-known sleep draughts,’ said Draco.  ‘I think he used too much lilac and not enough Tickleberries.’

‘His tongue turned colours?’ asked Ginny.

‘His tongue and his toenails.’

‘Gawain, have your toenails changed at all?’

The boy shook his head.

‘Well, I’ll take it under advisement,’ said Ginny.  ‘Are you still feeling tired?’  When the boy nodded, Ginny continued, ‘Get some sleep, then, and I’ll be back to visit you soon.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ said Gawain.  ‘Say, do you want a picture?’

Ginny smiled for the boy and nodded.  ‘Sure.  What’re you drawing?’

‘Dragons.  My mum says I have an affinity for them because I empathise with being kept in captivity since I’ve been holed up here in St Mungo’s for so long.’

Draco watched as the boy handed Ginny a piece of parchment with a rather precise drawing of a Hungarian Horntail on it.  He didn’t really fancy a closer look, but Draco couldn’t resist trying to elicit some sort of response from Ginny, so he stood directly behind her, peering down over her shoulder at the drawing.  The few wisps of hair that hadn’t been plaited moved slightly as Draco breathed out.  Very noticeably, Ginny stiffened, but made no sign that she was going to make him move.  

‘It’s good,’ said Ginny, ‘it’s very good.  I’m going to pin this up in my office.  Thank you.’  Turning to Draco, she added, ‘Let’s go.’

He followed her out of the hospital room.  She stopped in the corridor and leaned against the wall, still looking at the picture.  

‘I think that bloke fancies you,’ mused Draco.  ‘It’s rather amusing.’

‘He’s a very sweet boy, but he’s a teenager - still a boy.’

Draco snorted.

‘What’s so funny?’

He shrugged.

Ginny folded up the drawing and stuck it in her pocket.  ‘I think he accidentally drank a potion that had poisonous rose thorn instead of normal rose thorn.  It would account for the changing colours.’

‘There’s not a cure for that kind of poison.’

‘No, there’s not.  Not yet, anyway.’

‘And you’re just going to visit him until he dies?’

Ginny looked up at Draco.  He felt uncomfortable under her gaze.  Her eyebrows furrowed and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.  

‘Of course I am.’

‘But he’s just going to die.’

A look of horror skewed Ginny’s face.  ‘I know he’s going to die, but his mum works as a waitress in Hogsmeade and his dad is dead.  He doesn’t get visitors very often and he’s a good kid.  Even if he does fancy me a bit, so what?  He shouldn’t have to die alone and lonely.’

Draco was thoroughly surprised.  If he was a Healer, and he had no desire to be, and a patient was going to die, he’d stay as far away as possible.  No point in getting close to someone only to have them die.

‘Why would you do that?  You’re the sort to get attached and cry when he dies.’

‘Probably.  He has several months before the poison will finally take him,’ said Ginny.  ‘Besides, I wouldn’t get attached for _me_ , it would be for him, before he goes.’

Draco tried hard not to make a face.  That was completely daft.  He couldn’t understand putting yourself through that just to make someone _else_ feel better, even if they were going to die.  Ginny was so complex.  Draco wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to figure her out. 

‘That’s mad,’ said Draco.

‘Mad?’  Ginny shook her head in disbelief.  ‘Well, _you_ would think that, I’m sure.  C’mon, I have other patients I could see.’

She walked past him and down the corridor, her plait bouncing against her back.

XXXXXXX

Ginny and Draco walked into the Leaky Cauldron at five minutes past two.  The lunch rush was over and the restaurant was virtually empty.  Harry and Hermione sat at a booth in the corner, Hermione drinking what looked like pumpkin juice and Harry something that was smoking.

‘Hello, Hermione,’ said Ginny.  ‘How’re you?’  She sat down next to the bushy haired witch..

Draco stood next to the table for a moment before sitting down at the edge of the booth, as far away from Harry as he could get.  

A wizard came by, his wand pointed at a broom that swept up dust and crumbs behind him.  His hair was blonde and wild, as though it had never met a brush before.  Ginny felt her skin grow hot under his gaze.  She was used to this type of attention from men, but not when Draco Malfoy was watching with an amused look on his face.

‘What’ll it be?’ asked the wizard.

‘I’ll have a Butterbeer,’ said Ginny.  ‘And a whatever that roasted chicken thing was that was posted on the sign up front.’

‘Butterbeer and a turkey sandwich,’ said Draco.

The wizard left, the broom trailing after him.  Harry waved the smoke away from his drink and drank it down like a shot.  Hermione sipped on her pumpkin juice.

‘Look out!’ cried the bartender from across the pub, sending Ginny’s and Draco’s Butterbeers flying through the air, landing right in front of them on the table.

‘All right,’ said Harry.  ‘Hermione, you know a bit about Muggle psychology, yeah?’

‘I suppose.  Not as much as a forensic profiler would--’

‘A what?’ asked Ginny.  She hated it when Hermione and Harry threw Muggle terminology out of their mouths as though she was supposed to immediately know and understand what they were talking about.

‘It’s a term used by ...’  Hermione seemed at a loss for words.  ‘Um ... I’m not sure how to describe it, actually.  It’s not something I imagine wizards have ever had to use.  Magical crimes are usually much different than Muggle crimes.  Muggles have people who examine evidence from crimes and make an assessment of the person who committed said crimes.’

‘That’s mad,’ said Draco.

‘It’s not mad,’ snapped Harry.  ‘Just don’t talk for once, please.’

Ginny watched as Draco pressed his lips together and raised his hands as though to show defeat.  He was being rather accommodating; it was rather unnerving.  

‘All right, so was the second rape the same as the first one?’ Harry asked, looking at Ginny.

‘Oh, I didn’t watch it.  Draco put it in the Pensieve.  I did physical examinations of all the girls, though, and there aren’t any physical signs of it.  I’m not saying they _never_ had sex, but by the looks of it, no rough or traumatic sex, which is what _I_  would think would happen during a rape, y’know?’

‘Okay, so was the second one like the first one?’

Draco took a sip of his Butterbeer, but didn’t respond.  Harry looked at Ginny with a Help Me look on his face.

‘You told him not to talk,’ supplied Ginny.

‘Oh, fine, Malfoy.  Was the second one like the first one?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, so then--’

‘For the most part.’

‘What does “for the most part” mean?’

‘He groaned.’

‘Who groaned?’

‘The guy.’

‘The rapist?’

Draco nodded.

‘Hold on,’ said Hermione, looking at Ginny.  ‘Was the first girl Draco used Legilimency on the first girl brought into St Mungo’s?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Yes, and the memories he saw today were from the second girl brought in.  Is that important?’

‘Yes,’ said Hermione, ‘it’s very important.  Okay, how was the second rape different than the first one?’

‘It was mostly the same,’ said Draco, ‘except the guy took off all the witch’s clothes and he made noise.  He groaned and muttered, but I don’t know what he was saying.’

‘He _took_ off her clothes or he _ripped_ them off?’ asked Harry.

‘Ripped.’

Harry turned to Hermione.  ‘Okay, the first rape, the guy came into the witch’s room while she was sleeping, ripped off her knickers and had sex with her.  She screamed, but he kept on.  Then when it was over, he left.  So, the second time, he didn’t just rip off the knickers, he removed more clothes.’

‘Whenever the girl made noise, he put his hand over her mouth until she shut up,’ added Draco.

‘It sounds as though he’s fuelled by anger,’ said Hermione.  ‘The putting the hand over the mouth makes me think that.  We can also assume that none of this is random.  Meticulous, he is and must be.  I would say that he plans everything out.  He chooses his victim for whatever reason and puts the rune in their heads.  I imagine that takes a lot of time to place something that’s not already a part of someone’s mind.  This guy is patient.  He’s a sociopath, that’s for sure.’

‘What’s a sociopath?’ asked Ginny.

‘It’s someone who doesn’t think laws are for him, who thinks he is cleverer than everyone else, especially those in authority.  For instance, police or Aurors wouldn’t scare him.  The thought of going to Azkaban wouldn’t bother him because he thinks he is too clever to end up there.  However, in spite of all that, you usually don’t know when someone is a sociopath.  They can fit in if they want to fit you.  You’d never expect them.’

Harry sighed.  ‘This is bad, isn’t it?’

Hermione nodded.  ‘When was the last time the Ministry had a sociopath on the loose?’

‘Voldemort,’ whispered Harry and Ginny in unison.  

‘How old do you suppose this guy is?’ Ginny asked.

‘Oh my goodness,’ said Hermione.  ‘Probably late twenties?  Early thirties?  I can’t say for sure, though.  I’m not an expert on this, but I have taken loads of psychology classes--’

‘Why?’ asked Draco.  

‘Hermione’s the only person any of us know who does schoolwork for fun,’ said Ginny with a slight giggle.

‘Once you know more about the other two rapes,’ said Hermione, skipping over Draco’s question, ‘I might be able to better the profile.’

‘This is a good start,’ said Harry.  ‘Once we interview the friends and families of the girls we can figure out what they have in common and start ruling out potential suspects.’

‘Harry ... am I at risk?’ asked Hermione.  ‘I read the _Daily Prophet_ \--’

‘Why do you still read that rubbish?’ asked Ginny.

‘Ron gets it.  He likes reading the Quidditch section.’

‘So far all the girls have been single,’ said Harry.  ‘Or, you know what I mean - not married.  The _Prophet_ is just making a panic.  Only four girls have been targeted so far.  We don’t know why or how or anything yet, but I’m sure you’re safe.’

‘You’re not a pure-blood,’ said Draco.  ‘None of those girls in that hospital room are Mudbloods.’

‘MALFOY!’ shouted Harry.  ‘This time, _really_ stop talking.  Look, Hermione, there’s nothing that suggests only pure-bloods are targeted.  Could be a coincidence.’

‘Your food,’ said the wizard with the mad-looking hair.  He pointed his wand at the stack of plates hovering over the table and they all floated down in the middle of the table.  As the wizard strode away, Ginny realised Draco’s turkey sandwich had accidentally landed in front of her and he had her chicken.  He reached over and picked up his plate, touching the arm she had resting on the table as he did so.  A familiar chill ran down Ginny’s spine.  

This touching thing was going to get out of hand if she didn’t handle it soon.  Ginny took her plate from in front of him, avoiding eye contact and picking up her fork.  She shifted in her seat, moving her legs under the table, her foot grazing the side of Draco’s foot.  She could feel his eyes look at her and she bit back a smile.

Two could play this game.

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX

 


	6. Chapter 6 : The Currant Rum

  
Author's notes:

A/N: A month since the last update – I hope it was worth it!  Don’t hate us for the end!  I’ve started writing chapter 7, but it’ll be at least two to three weeks for the next update because I will be out of commission.   And we’d both like to thank doraemon for beta’ing this story for us!  

-kjcp

* * *

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Six: The Currant Rum**

XXXXXXX

Ginny peeled the bowl of potatoes sitting on her parents’ kitchen table the Muggle way.  She cut her thumb twice, but the slow, monotonous chore of peeling gave her time to rest her brain and focus on the task in front of her.  For over a week, Ginny had sat next to Harry, listening as he and Tonks interviewed family members and friends of the four victims.  She wrote down important notes on possible physical symptoms of the attacks.  She’d gone over the notes, trying to create a list of warning signs.  

Then, there was Draco.  He entered the minds of the last two girls and put what he saw inside the Pensieve.  Ginny refused to watch the girls get raped, but she heard enough of the details from Harry to give her the heebie-jeebies.  For the past week, she was so inundated with all this talk of mental sexual assault that she needed a break from it all.  

Unfortunately, as much as she focused on the potatoes, thoughts of the absurd game she kept playing with Draco flew through her brain.  She pushed them out of her head, but they continued to creep back in.  The whole thing was _ridiculous_.  Draco Malfoy was intolerable.  He was arrogant, obnoxious, snarky.  There wasn’t any doubt in Ginny’s mind that the only reason Draco was playing games with her was because he had spent six years holed up in Azkaban without female interaction.  Sure, he’d had that tryst with Helena, but she promised Ginny she would no longer pursue Draco until the case was over; Ginny didn’t need any added stress of listening to Helena complain about secret love affairs with prisoners.

_He’s just randy_ , Ginny told herself.  Her hands gripped the peeler tightly, her knuckles turning white.  The flesh of her upper arm burned where Draco had touched her last.  If her mother found out the dirty things that flashed through Ginny’s mind when she thought about the game with Draco, the screaming would go on for days.  And once the yelling was over, the tears would begin.  

Part of Ginny wanted something to happen with Draco just to spite her mother.  Now, Ginny loved her mum very much; she loved her entire family, including all of her sisters-in-law she had acquired over the past several years.  Still, Mrs Weasley was constantly riding Ginny’s back about finding the right wizard, getting married, having children.

Just as Ginny’s thoughts began to stray away from her mother and back towards the potatoes, Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen.  Her ginger hair was turning grey around her ears, which was only noticeable when she piled it into a sloppy bun on top of her head.

‘Why don’t you use your wand?  It’d make it easier on you.’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘I like doing things the Muggle way sometimes.  All I do at work is use magic.  Sometimes it’s nice to have a break.’

‘You are just like your father: overworked and underpaid,’ said Mrs Weasley.  ‘You should find time to relax.’

Ginny snorted.  ‘Right.  I shall pencil that in between full night’s sleep and working two jobs for the pay of one.’

‘Don’t get short with me, all right?’  Mrs Weasley placed her hands on her hips.  ‘I’m only looking out for what’s best for you since there’s no one else to do it.’

Ginny stopped peeling.  ‘What does that mean?’

‘Nothing,’ said Mrs Weasley in a tone that suggested ‘nothing’ was really ‘something.’  

‘ _Nothing_?  I have friends who look out for what’s best for me.’

‘Who?  Harry, perhaps?’

‘Of course Harry.  He’s a friend, isn’t he?’

‘Harry isn’t looking out for you in the way he should be.’

‘And what way is that?’ asked Ginny, gritting her teeth.

‘The way a boyfriend or husband should.’

‘He’s neither of those things.’

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat, but kept her silence.

‘I don’t want him to be either of those things,’ clarified Ginny.

‘I see,’ said Mrs Weasley.  ‘He would have, if you had let him.  How long has it been since you’ve had a boyfriend?  Two years?’

‘Mum, I don’t know why we have to keep having this conversation over and over again.  I can’t _let_ Harry be something he doesn’t want to be!’

‘That’s nonsense.’

‘It’s not nonsense!  Harry wants to commit, but he can’t.  He’s incapable.  I can’t make him be someone he’s not.  I waited for years for him.  I can’t wait my entire life.  I don’t want to be thirty years old, wondering if one day I’m going to wake up alone!  I can’t handle that stress and that’s what being with Harry was like.  I’m sorry I haven’t found someone suitable to bring home to you, but that’s just how it is.  I’m independent.  I live in my own flat and live my own life.’

‘It’s not the life I wanted for you.’

‘I’m not a housewife or a mother.  I don’t know if I want to be those things.  I don’t need your approval to live the way I want to live.’

‘So you don’t live in a way I’d approve?  Ginevra Weasley, you disappoint me.’

Ginny stood up.  ‘Mum, you disappoint _me_.’  She looked at her mother, fair skin with wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, ginger hair streaked with grey, and felt anger and pity well up inside her.  As Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to respond, Ginny Disapparated with a loud _crack_!

XXXXXXX

Ginny had been to Harry’s flat so many times she could visualise it in her head like a picture.  She Apparated into his kitchen.  Voices from the lounge filtered through the air and Ginny could make out that Harry was talking to Lupin and Tonks.  

‘What was that?’ came Tonks’ voice.

‘Don’t you have wards against Apparation, Harry?’ asked Lupin.

‘Yes ...’

Ginny didn’t have to wait very long before Harry entered his kitchen, wand raised.

‘I figured it was you,’ he said.  ‘Only so many people can Apparate through my wards and I didn’t think it was Ron or Hermione in my kitchen.  What’s wrong?  You look like you’re going to cry.’

‘I had a fight with my mother.’

‘Again?  Same fight?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘She’s concerned about my lifestyle and she wishes you and I were still together.  I tell her we’re friends, but she doesn’t find friendship acceptable.  I think she’s sore that you’re never going to be an official member of the family.’

‘Gin ...  I’m indebted to your family for taking me in after the war.  I’m part of your family even if we never get married.’

‘I know that,’ said Ginny, taking in a deep breath.  ‘I wish _she_ knew that.  Or accepted that.  What are you doing?  Was that Tonks and Lupin I heard?’

‘Yeah.  Lupin has rather good organisational skills so he’s helping us get all the notes from the interviews in order.’

‘Eugh.  That’s a week of my life I wish I could get back.’

‘I Summoned your notes from your office.  I would’ve asked, but--’

‘It’s fine,’ said Ginny, not really wanting to get in another argument this evening.  ‘Where’s Malfoy?’

‘In there, with us,’ answered Harry.  He lowered his voice.  ‘I’m beginning to get fused by this case.  Interviewing all those people, watching those rape memories, and then coming back to my flat and dealing with the world’s biggest git.  If the contract didn’t require Malfoy to have constant supervision, I’d magically bind him and throw him in a wardrobe and lock the door while I go have a pint.’

‘He can’t be that bad, can he?’

‘He’s worse.’

Before Ginny knew what she was saying the words escaped her mouth, ‘If he’s that bad, I’ll baby-sit him for a night while you get pissed.’

‘I wouldn’t get pissed.  Ron’s the bloke I used to drunk with, but now that he and Hermione are married we don’t go out as much.’

‘Can you blame him?  Would you rather drink with your best mate or have sex with your wife?’

‘Would you really take Malfoy for me?’ asked Harry, skipping over Ginny’s question.

‘For a night,’ she replied, ‘if you’re really that bad off with work.’

‘Just stress.’

‘Stress isn’t conducive to good health.’

‘That’s the Healer in you saying that.’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘I’m just making a point.’

‘I don’t expect this is a free favour?’

‘Certainly not.  You’d owe me quite a large favour in return.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Ginny, ‘but I’ll think about it and let you know.  You better make it a good night, though, because I doubt I’ll be willing to baby-sit Ferret Boy too terribly often.’

‘I’ll make it good,’ said Harry with a smirk.

‘Going to go out with that little blonde bint from Madam Appleby’s Magical Apparel?  Because if you want to talk about disapproval, Mum will _never_ approve of her.  You could never bring her round for supper at The Burrow.’

‘ _No one’s_ mum would approve of her.  She’s not a girl you date to bring home to dinner.’

‘Ah,’ said Ginny.  ‘Well, whatever, Harry.  Just let me know the night and I’ll be sure to have a lot of liquor on hand at my flat.’

‘Liquor?’

‘Sure.  The best way to deal with a Malfoy is when you’re in a good mood and drunk.  I’ll drink until the bottle’s empty and then throw it at Malfoy if he hacks me off.’

‘Just bind him and throw him in the wardrobe like I said before.  Pretend he’s not there,’ joked Harry.

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Tonks, with her hair the colour of forget-me-nots, entered the kitchen.

‘Oh, wotcher, Ginny!  Didn’t realise it was you here.  Harry, we need to finish up those lists so Remus and I can get back home.  We’re both feeling rather spent and so we’re entertaining the thought of going to bed right early.’

‘Tonks, when have you ever gone to bed early?’ laughed Ginny.

‘When I married an old man.’

‘All right,’ said Harry.  ‘Let’s go.’

XXXXXXX

‘So,’ said Lupin, ‘would you like for me to read off the list for everyone?’

Harry rubbed his eyes and Ginny yawned.  Tonks was lightly snoring with her head on the table.

‘Yes,’ said Harry.

‘Interviewing family, friends, and boyfriends,’ said Lupin, ‘all of them said similar things.  This list contains the things all the victims had in common.’

‘Right,’ said Ginny.  She noticed Draco wasn’t there.  She hadn’t even noticed him leaving.  

‘All the witches lived alone.  Two of them had boyfriends, but they were all technically single seeing as they were not married.  They started having signs of – what did you call it, Ginny?’

Ginny’s eyes widened.  ‘What?  Oh, sleep deprivation.  It’s what I’m feeling now,’ she joked.

‘Right, sleep deprivation.  There was constant yawning and all the witches at some point fell asleep while at work or during a meal.  They were groggy, irritable, and couldn’t even concentrate enough to have a simple conversation.’

Ginny nodded.  ‘That sounds about right.’

‘They also began staying home a lot, even sent owls explaining their absence from work.  They picked up odd new habits, such as drinking loads of coffee or taking Up All Night Potions in order not to sleep.  The way they dressed changed.  All of the victims were described as being attractive and fashionable, but then were described as dressing as though they didn’t care about how they looked.’

Tonks let out a loud snore.  Lupin stopped looking at his list and peered at his wife.

‘Is Andromeda watching the kids again?’ asked Harry.

Lupin nodded.  ‘She likes it.  Ever since Ted was killed by the Death Eater attack before the war, Nymph thinks she’s needed a project, something to do.  I daresay lately babysitting the kids does it.’

‘Well, Tonks has been really busy helping with this case,’ said Harry.  ‘She’s good at the detective part.’

‘Just not the breaking and entering to arrest someone part,’ said Lupin with a laugh.  He ran his fingers through Tonks’ dark blue, almost black, hair.  

‘That’s ‘cause I’m clumsy,’ murmured Tonks with a large yawn.  She rubbed her eyes.  ‘Did you finish the list?’

‘We’re discussing it now,’ said Lupin.  ‘We got to the point where all the witches had seemed to stop caring about how they dressed.’

‘Oh,’ said Tonks.  ‘They had mood swings as well, they all said.’

‘Right,’ said Ginny, ‘and their physical appearances began to change.  They lost weight, got paler, and forgot to do normal, everyday activities like shower or brush their teeth.’

‘I think that’s what really got everyone’s attention,’ said Harry.  ‘Right?  The emotional changes came first, but those are more easily hidden.’

‘Exactly,’ said Tonks.  ‘Unless you’re a Metamorphmagus like me.  I can hide those sorts of things.’

Lupin cleared his throat, his eyes studying the parchment in front of him.  

‘He doesn’t like for me to change my appearance,’ whispered Tonks, although not low enough for Lupin not to hear.  

‘Why would I want you to change your appearance?  I’m not some randy teenage boy who needs you to be someone else all the time.’  

Tonks smiled and rolled her eyes playfully.  ‘How much more of the list do we have to talk about?  I’d like to get home and see the kids.’

‘They’re probably asleep,’ said Lupin.

‘Oh.’  Tonks looked very disappointed.  She looked at the watch on her wrist.  ‘Wow, it’s late.’

‘I think we’ve discussed enough for now,’ said Harry.  ‘Ginny and I can make a list of symptoms that we can submit to the _Daily Prophet_.’

‘All right,’ said Tonks.  She stood up and tripped over the leg of her chair.  Lupin righted her and chuckled.  She smiled.  ‘Oops.  I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.’

‘Good bye,’ said Ginny.

Lupin and Tonks Disapparated with two loud _cracks_.

‘So … a list?’

‘I’d have the _Prophet_ publish it as a service bulletin, y’know?  Want to get started?’

‘Conjure some coffee, will you?’ said Ginny.  ‘This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?’

XXXXXXX

**DAILY PROPHET EXCLUSIVE**

**Submitted By,**

**Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley**

Be aware of the following warning signs as they may be the result of a Legilimency crime:

  1. CHRONIC FATIGUE – if you or someone you know is constantly tired, frequently yawning, and does not seem to get better by sleeping. 
  2. PURPOSEFUL WAKEFULNESS – if you or someone you know has begun to keep yourself awake, despite the consequences. 
  3. POOR CONCENTRATION – if you or someone you know cannot concentrate on minimal tasks, including but not exclusive to, normal conversation, projects at work, household chores, etc. 
  4. LACK OF CONCERN OVER SELF – if you or someone else has stopped being concerned about the way you look, dress, or act. 
  5. DISINTEREST IN LIFE – if you or someone else spends most of your time in the comfort of your own home, excluded yourself from social activities, and has become a recluse. 



If you or someone you know displays these warning signs, contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic in London immediately.

XXXXXXX

Harry threw his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ across the conference room.  It hit the wall and pages fell and scattered all over the floor.  He ran his hands through his hair, grumbling to himself.

‘What’s wrong now?’ Ginny asked, tapping her fingers on the table top.  Harry was in a foul mood.  He kept snapping at everyone, including her, which was really beginning to hack Ginny off.  Sitting across from her at the table was Malfoy, looking particularly bored and tired.  He hadn’t had to use Legilimency for several days, but he still seemed rather drained from the week before when he had to use his skills frequently.

‘The list of warning signs came out in the newspaper this morning.  Although, they added in the bit about contacting us if the warning signs are shown in someone.  Everyone and their great-aunt Mildred is out there!’  Harry looked at his watch.  ‘Four hours it’s been published and there’s already a queue a kilometre long outside the Ministry, family and friends of possible victims and witches who think they’re being victimised.’

‘How many are there exactly?’ asked Ginny.

‘Junior Auror McNally’s been handing out numbers.  Last I heard we were at four-hundred-thirty-eight.’ 

‘Wow.  That’s – that’s mad!  Do all those people really think they know victims?’

‘They want a bit of the publicity,’ answered Harry.  ‘We’ll have to go through all of them.’

‘ _We_?’ said Draco, sitting up straight.  ‘There is no “we” here.’

‘Can you stop complaining for five minutes, Malfoy?’ snapped Harry.  ‘I’m sick of listening to the endless bollocks that comes out of your mouth.’

‘If you’d just take me to Diagon Alley so I can find something to do.  Your flat is the most boring place I’ve ever been in my life and I spent six years in prison.  I _need_ something to do.’

‘Stop complaining.  Be glad you’re not in Azkaban now!’

Draco grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.  Ginny watched him, fascinated at how a man of twenty-six could act so much like a boy of sixteen.

‘We won’t have to interview all four hundred of them,’ said Harry, ‘but once the Junior Aurors have narrowed the queue down, you’ll have to use Legilimency, Malfoy, to look into the potential victims minds.’

‘What?’

‘Did you think you were going to get sprung from Azkaban and sit around on your arse?’ asked Harry, slamming his fists down on the tabletop and leaning hard on his arms.  ‘If there are more witches out there who are getting _raped_ while they sleep then you’re going to be the one who finds out!  I killed Voldemort; I’m not scared of a skinny little ferret like you.  Want to skimp on your job?  _Try it_.’

‘Harry,’ said Ginny quietly, ‘calm down.’

‘I can’t live with him!’ cried Harry, standing back up straight and motioning with his hands towards Draco.  ‘Not only do I work with him, but he’s in my flat as well!’

‘I know, Harry, we’ve talked about this already.  Calm down.  Why don’t you go take a walk for a few minutes?  I’ll stay with Malfoy in here.’

‘No.’  Harry shook his head.  ‘I have too much work to get done.’

‘All right, then _we’ll_ go for the walk.  C’mon, Malfoy.’

Draco didn’t object.  He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up slowly.  His feet shuffled as he followed Ginny out the door.  They both walked in silence as they left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  Ginny didn’t dare steal a glance at Draco; she knew he was looking better than he had the first few days he was released from prison, but he still had the look of a poor child, pale and underfed.  If he got enough food in him, Ginny imagined he’d fill out and start looking older.  As it was, he not only had the personality, but the look of someone much younger.  Even at Hogwarts, Draco had never been particularly good-looking.  His face had always been pale and pointy – sharp chin, thin nose.  His face looked severe back then, tight and serious, his eyes cold and calculating.  He looked much the same now, only thinner.  Ginny suspected he _might_ have been okay-looking if he stopped being such a git.

However, the two of them continued to play their ridiculous touching game.  Even if Draco’s personality was that of a teenaged boy, he more than made up for it in confidence.  His touches felt bold, although Ginny didn’t think anyone else noticed them.  One thing she didn’t understand about Draco was how he could be such an arrogant, snarky arse and part of her was attracted to him.  

She tried to convince herself that he wasn’t good-looking, that he was a nasty, stupid wizard, but every opportunity he had to touch her but didn’t felt like an opportunity wasted.

They went to the lifts and waited for the doors to open.

‘D’you constantly come to Potter’s rescue?’

‘Excuse me?’ asked Ginny, turning her head towards Draco.  

‘You had me leave the room.  You offered to _baby-sit_ me so he could have time off.  I didn’t think you two were together.’

‘We’re not,’ answered Ginny.  The muscles in her body tensed; she was readying herself for an argument.  

‘So why not let Harry deal with his problems on his own?’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You seem to take care of him a lot.  Last week you cooked dinner for him twice.’

‘I seem to remember _you_ eating that dinner as well, y’know.’

The doors to the lifts opened.  Ginny was thankful that no one was in them.  She got in, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at Draco, daring him to continue.

‘It seems rather pathetic that you’re not even a couple and you’re taking care of him as though you were his girlfriend.  Are you still fucking him?’

Ginny imagined herself launching across the lift and punching Draco right in his pointy little nose.  Self-restraint won, though, and she simply ignored the question and waited for the lift doors to open to the Atrium.  

‘So, you’re not still sleeping with Potter,’ said Draco, lowering his voice as they passed by the long line of witches and wizards wanting to check in their wands and get to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

It hit Ginny right then that Draco had only tried to pick a fight so he could find out whether she was still involved with Harry.  No, that ship had sailed a long time ago.  

‘You overheard me telling Harry about the fight with my mum.  You _know_ we’re not together.’

‘That didn’t mean anything.  I wasn’t with Helena when I let her go down on me.’

Ginny stopped walking.  She’d forgotten about the incident with Helena.  Why was it still bothering her?  She hadn’t even seen Helena in days; this case was keeping her so very busy.  

‘And you weren’t with that bloke who was the most boring wizard I’ve ever encountered – which is saying something considering I spent six years surrounded by Crabbe and Goyle.’

‘Mathias,’ said Ginny, remembering the chance meeting near the lifts last week.

‘Was that his name?’ said Draco, sounding rather bored.

‘You know that’s his name.’

‘It doesn’t matter.  You weren’t together with him when you let him fuck you.’

‘You don’t have to be so crude about it.’

‘What was it, then, if it wasn’t fucking?’

Ginny breathed in deeply.  That’s precisely what it was – fucking.  She had allowed Mathias into her bed because she was randy and wanted the familiar feel of a man inside of her.

‘So, it’s safe for me to assume that just because you’re not “together” with Potter that doesn’t mean you’re not sleeping with him.’

‘I’m not sleeping with him.’

‘Interesting,’ said Draco.  ‘Are we going to go for a walk now?  I’m rather bored just standing here.’

‘You’re an arse,’ said Ginny, feeling her anger rise.  The difference between her anger with Draco and Harry’s anger with him was that she knew how to control hers.

As they began to walk again, Ginny noticed that there was a heat between her legs and in her entire life it had never felt to intense as it did right then.

XXXXXXX

Later that night, Ginny sat on her settee with a glass of iced red currant rum as she sifted through a case file from St Mungo’s.  For some reason the argument she had with Draco earlier still had her blood slightly boiling.  The three glasses of rum she already had weren’t helping matters.

‘Ginevra?’  

Ginny almost dropped her glass; the voice startled her.  It came from the fireplace.  She got on her knees and looked into the green flames.  

‘Mum?  What’re you doing?’

‘Just checking in,’ said Mrs Weasley, albeit somewhat tensely.

‘Oh.  Did you need something?’

‘Your father wanted to make sure we didn’t forget to invite you to Guillaume’s birthday party at The Burrow this weekend – what is that?’

‘What’s what?’

‘Is that rum?’

‘Yeah, so?  Now you not only have a problem with the men in my life, but also what I drink?’

‘Now, Ginny, that’s not what—’

‘Mum, I don’t want to hear it.  You forgave the twins for leaving school and—’

‘—they’re good businessmen—’

‘—and you forgave Fleur for being a raving bint!’

‘She’s my daughter-in-law; I have to love her—’

‘Mum, why can’t you just accept that I’m not ready to get married and live _your_ life?’

‘I didn’t Floo to argue with you, only to invite you to the party we are having for Bill and Fleur’s boy.’

‘Fine, I’ll be there.  I’ll visit Dad the next time I’m at the Ministry and get the details from him.’

Mrs Weasley nodded, but before she left the fireplace, another head popped in.

‘Harry!’ cried Mrs Weasley.  ‘How are you!  Haven’t seen you around The Burrow in a while.’

‘I’ve been busy with work, but Mr Weasley told me about Guillaume’s party and I’ll be there.’

‘Good, good.  I’m going to make apple tart since I know you like it so much.  We’ll see you this weekend!’

Ginny rolled her eyes as her mother’s head disappeared.  ‘What d’you want, Harry?’

‘A babysitter.’

‘Oh, no, not tonight, I—’

‘I made plans.  Please,’ pleaded Harry.  ‘I have to get away from Malfoy.  This case is really getting to me as well.’

Ginny didn’t answer.

‘You said you would ...’  

‘Okay,’ relented Ginny, ‘I’ll do it.  But you owe me.  You owe me _big_.’

‘Sure, of course, whatever you want.  Is your flat still blocked from having full Floo Network capabilities?’

‘Yeah, you’ll have to Apparate in.’

Harry’s head disappeared from the fireplace and within less than a minute, he had Apparated into her living room, Draco next to him, with a loud _crack_!

Harry wore a solid green t-shirt with a pair of faded Muggle jeans.  His trainers looked new and overall he looked very well put-together.  The perpetual black mess on top of his head, on the other hand, looked as untidy as usual.

‘Get off me,’ Draco snarled, removing his arm from Harry’s grasp.  He visibly shuddered, as if trying to shake any Harry-germs off his body.

‘Don’t be so melodramatic,’ said Harry.  ‘Thanks for doing this, Gin.’

Ginny simply shrugged, not sure why she was doing this at all.  True, she _had_ offered to do it, but she’d just got in a fight with her mother and she must have been made temporarily mad because of it.  No Weasley with a sound mind would have agreed to baby-sit Draco Malfoy.

‘I’ll meet you both tomorrow at my flat for breakfast, then, yeah?’

‘Sure,’ said Ginny, watching Harry smile and Disapparate.  It was then that she suddenly realised that meeting Harry for breakfast meant she’d be with Draco all night.  She turned her eyes to Draco as he looked around her flat.  ‘D’you want a drink?’

‘What do you have?’ he asked, studying a painting on the wall above her fireplace.

‘I’m drinking red currant rum.’

‘Is it strong?’

‘Strong enough.’

Draco nodded and Ginny took that to mean he wanted a glass.  She Summoned an unused glass from her kitchen and poured Draco half a glassfull.  She put the glass on the end table and sat down on her settee, picking up her own glass as she settled into the cushions.

‘That’s one right kitsch painting,’ said Draco.

‘A patient of mine gave it to me.  A thank-you for saving his life.’

‘I would’ve sent it back.’

‘He painted it himself.’

‘Obviously an amateur.’

Ginny rolled her eyes.  ‘Can we have a conversation without arguing?’

‘We have before.  Usually while you’re fussing over me to drink some bloody potion and take a nap.’

‘Those times you were too tired to argue.’

Draco shrugged and turned away from the painting.  His eyes found the glass of rum and he sat at the other end of the sofa and downed his drink as though it was a shot.  Without asking if he could have more rum, Draco took the bottle and poured himself a full glass.  He sat back into the corner of the settee and sipped.

‘You don’t look like a rum drinker.’

‘It was a present from Mathias.  Last time we were together I told him I liked exotic-tasting drinks.’

‘You get a lot of presents, then,’ said Draco with a  hint of amusement in his voice.

‘Why were you in Azkaban?’ asked Ginny, watching Draco carefully.

‘Kidnapping and murder,’ said Draco.

‘Did you do it?’

Draco’s eyes snapped to Ginny’s.  He seemed surprised by her question, as though no one had ever inquired about his innocence before.  As little as she actually knew about Draco, Ginny could tell this was a subject he wouldn’t talk about and she would be damned if she spent a night in silence.

‘Is it really all that awful living with Harry?’ she asked, filling in the quiet void.

‘He tries to ignore me, but it’s rather amusing watching him get agitated.  At Hogwarts I couldn’t say three words without him pulling out his wand to hex me.  Now he holds it in for hours and then lashes out at everyone, including me.  He’s bloody loud when he yells.’

‘I know.’

‘You never lived with Potter?’

‘No.  He can be rather moody sometimes.  It’s just as well we didn’t.  If we had, I’m not sure we’d still be friends.’

‘Potter has a temper.’

‘So do you.’

‘You’re a Weasley.  You lot of blood traitors have tempers like a herd of dragons.’

Ginny wanted to respond in anger, but it was the truth.  Weasleys always had tempers.  The bit about them being blood traitors, though, could be ignored.  It was useless trying to get Draco to stop using those offensive words.

‘Angry sex is the best form of sex.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I bet Potter pounded you good, didn’t he, with all that anger.’

Ginny frowned.  ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’

‘Was he your first?’

‘That’s none of your business, either.’

‘Pansy Parkinson was mine.  Sixth year.  Room of Requirement.’

‘That awful cow?  Disgusting!’

Draco shrugged and took another sip of the rum. 

Ginny wasn’t sure she was drunk enough to get into this detailed of a conversation.  She looked down at her glass.  There were some headache and nausea potions around here somewhere that she had nicked from St Mungo’s.  A couple of those would set her straight in the morning if she had a hangover.  When she sipped the rum, it felt hot going down her throat.  When she gulped it, it burned.  

‘All right, then.  Harry Potter.  Christmas break, seventh year.  _My_ seventh year, not his.’

‘Best sex?’

‘Mathias Brown, last month.’

‘The boring guy?’

‘He’s only boring out of bed,’ said Ginny, drinking the rest of her rum and refilling her glass for the fourth time.

‘Delia Carrow.  Daughter of a Death Eater.  When I left Hogwarts until just before I was arrested.’

‘Strangest place you ever did it,’ said Ginny, her buzz making her want to get in on the game.

‘Knockturn Alley.’

‘Where in Knockturn Alley?’

‘In an actual alleyway, between two stores.  Middle of the day, out in the open, but no one saw.  Your turn.  Strangest place.’

‘It’s not very interesting.  In one of the patient rooms at St Mungo’s while I was on shift.’

‘Was there a patient in there?’

‘No.’

Draco looked rather disappointed.  ‘Favourite position?’

‘Missionary, me on top.’

‘That’s mine as well,’ said Draco, ‘with you on top.’

Ginny knew her cheeks were turning red.  Damn that Weasley blush!  She needed to think of another question and quickly.  

‘What one thing do you like the most during sex?’ she asked, feeling her heartbeat begin to increase.

‘Only one thing?’

‘As many as you like.’

‘I like it hard and deep … with the girl’s eyes open so I watch her expressions mixed with pleasure and pain …’  Draco paused and drank the rest of his rum in one swallow.  He put the glass on the end table; it hit with a loud _bang_.  ‘But if we’re talking foreplay, then I like to run my hands over her body, especially her legs …’

Ginny felt slightly dizzy and realised she had forgotten to breathe.  A strange lump formed in the back of her throat as Draco slowly moved towards her, reaching his hand out to touch her knee.  The warmth of his hand through her pyjama bottoms was almost excruciating.  

‘… and I like to bite on her pulse points …’  He picked up her wrist and softly bit the thin skin.  His mouth lingered over the skin, his breath hot against her arm as he moved towards the crook of her elbow.  Then, he moved to the curve of her neck.  Ginny tilted her head to the side to give him better access, unconsciously widening her knees.  What he was doing now gave a whole new meaning to this game they’d been playing.  

This was too fast.  Draco Malfoy – this was Draco bloody Malfoy!  Her mother would have a fit.  Somehow that thought fuelled Ginny on.  It didn’t matter that Draco had only been in town for a couple weeks.  It didn’t matter that he was supposed to be an enemy.  It didn’t matter that he was a prisoner or someone she was supposed to hate.  None of it mattered.

Their stupid game had turned Ginny on more than any wizard ever had before.  Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought it was because Draco was supposed to be forbidden.  She wasn’t supposed to want him, wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him.  And yet, here they were, Draco nibbling on her neck.

Suddenly he was gone.  He moved away and sat back in the other corner of the settee.  Ginny’s mouth was parted and she was taking in deep, slow breaths.

‘What is the one thing _you_ like the most during sex?’ Draco asked, filling up his glass with rum once again.

‘Er …’  Ginny’s mind was not functioning.  It kept thinking about the hot throbbing between her legs.  If one of them didn’t touch her there soon, she thought she might actually die.  ‘Passion.’

The word was out of her mouth before she knew she said it.  

‘Passion?’  Draco snorted.  ‘Is that what Potter gave you?’

‘No,’ said Ginny quickly.  ‘Well, yes, he did.’  She averted her eyes as she added, ‘Even if he wasn’t the best, he made up for it with passion.’

‘I thought Mathias Brown was the best sex you’d ever had?’

‘The best sex, yes, but I’d take good sex with passion and love over what Mathias gave me any day.’

‘And Potter loved you?’ said Draco with a sneer.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t sound altogether sure.’

‘I am sure,’ said Ginny confidently.  

‘Passion and love aside, don’t you need a good rogering sometimes?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Always more fun when someone else gets me off.’

‘Agreed.  Your glass looks a little full.’

Ginny glanced down at her rum.  She lifted it to her mouth and downed it, like Draco had earlier, as though it was a shot.

‘What do you like to do to a wizard?’ he asked.

Ginny wet her lips and shrugged.  ‘Touch him.  Tease him.’

‘Touch him where?’ asked Draco.

Ginny looked into his grey eyes and felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards.  Draco reached out and grabbed her hand.  With little force, he pulled her towards him across the settee.  He splayed her hand out across his knee.

‘Here?’

Ginny shook her head.  Draco moved her hand to the middle of his chest.  He raised his eyebrows, but Ginny shook her head again.  Her breath caught in the middle of her throat as he dragged her hand down his body.  He stopped on his lower stomach and Ginny shook her head again.  She knew where he was headed next and when her hand stopped near the zipper of his trousers, Ginny nodded and wet her lips with her tongue again.

What was she _doing_?

‘Stop,’ said Ginny, yanking her hand away from Draco’s grip.  She stood up and walked towards the fireplace, keeping her eyes locked on the painting above it.

‘What is your problem?’ demanded Draco.

‘Nothing,’ said Ginny.  ‘But I’m not some little bint who’ll give you head in the loo without a second thought.’

‘Why do you harp on what happened with Helena?  Jealous?’

Ginny whirled around.  ‘Why would I be jealous of her?’

‘Because she’s free with her sex,’ answered Draco, standing up and crossing the room, stopping just in front of her.  ‘She doesn’t care what anyone else bloody thinks about her.  You have one night of brilliant sex and you ignore the bloke.  That’s fucked up.’

‘What do you know about people, Malfoy?  You’ve been shut up in Azkaban for six years.’

‘I know when someone is ashamed of themselves.’

Ginny’s anger rose and she slapped Draco across the face, leaving a white handprint on his cheek.  As soon as she did it, she was mortified.  She’d never slapped someone before.

Something flashed in Draco’s eyes and he all but pounced, pushing her against the wall next to the fireplace and kissing her mouth.  His lips felt hard on hers, his body pinning her back.  One of his hands held her wrists above her head.  Nothing was in Ginny’s control.  

The grip Draco had on her hands lessened and he pulled his mouth away from hers, but he was still close enough that she could smell the currant rum on his breath.  

‘How do you know?’ asked Ginny.  ‘When someone is ashamed?’

‘I just know,’ said Draco, staring at her mouth.

Ginny pressed her pelvis up to rub against Draco.  She moved her head forward, kissing his mouth.  She used her tongue to pry open his lips and swept it across the inside of his mouth.  A low growl sounded in the back of his throat and Draco pulled on her bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth.  His tongue ran across it before going back into her mouth.  

He dropped his hand from her wrists and ran it slowly down her shoulder, grazing the side of her breast, all the way to her hips.  The heat between her legs grew more intense and Ginny almost cried out in want.

This was madness.  The only explanation was the liquor.  They both drank a lot of that rum, hadn’t they?

Draco stopped kissing her lips and relocated his mouth to her neck.

‘This isn’t happening,’ breathed Ginny.

‘No,’ said Draco.

‘This doesn’t mean anything.’

‘No, nothing at all.’

Ginny pushed herself away from the wall and took hold of Draco’s arm.  ‘Come with me.’

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued …**

XXXXXXX


	7. Chapter 7 : The Real Story

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Seven: The Real Story**

XXXXXXX

‘Come with me.’

The words hit his ears, but his brain hardly processed them.  _Come with me_.  Her hand was warm as it grasped his and pulled him.  Then he was in the hallway, walking down it towards an open doorway.  Ginny walked into the room and Draco had to take in a deep breath.  Looking around the room he was struck with how bare it was.  There was a bed with a cream-coloured duvet, a chest of drawers, and a bedside table.  The walls were blank save one small painting of a house set between several trees with a few stray chickens in front of it.  It was then that Draco realised this couldn’t possibly be _Ginny’s_ bedroom; she must have taken him to the guest one.

She went to the chest and shuffled through one of the drawers.  Once she pulled out a small object, she closed the drawer and went and stood in front of the window.  Her hands worked quickly to pull back her hair and fasten it with a clip.  The white of her skin was illuminated by the light that streamed into the room from the lampposts outside.  

Draco wanted to undress her.  He wanted to kiss her hard, long, and everywhere.  He wanted to push her down on the bed and _fuck_ her.  He didn’t want this to be slow and revelatory.  He wanted – he _needed_ – this to be fast and rough.  The way Ginny turned and looked at him, he knew she wanted it that way too.  

Something about her stance oozed sex.  Her legs were slightly apart, her mouth open, the tip of her tongue visible.  She looked hungry and looked at him as though he were prey.  

Her eyes held his gaze still as her hands worked to undress herself.  She stepped out of her skirt, took off her shirt and bra, and pushed her knickers down.  

Draco coughed.  He had forgotten to breathe.  He wasn’t sure he even remembered how.  Ginny walked towards him, the light from outside glowing against her skin like a halo, which was full of irony because nothing they were about to do was angelic.  

‘I—’ Draco began, but was silenced as Ginny put her hand over his mouth.  She shook her head.  

He shut up and began undressing himself.  His eyes strayed to her shoulder, white and smooth, and he couldn’t help but think what it’d be like to bite her there.  Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave ridges in the skin.  The thought made his cock stir and he began to grow hard.  As he dropped his trousers and boxers, he let his eyes drop down to her breasts.  Small.  Round.  Not even big enough to fill his hands, but it hardly mattered.  He hadn’t touched breasts since before he was in Azkaban.  

Once he was naked, he reached out for Ginny and pulled her to him, kissing her hard, forcing his tongue inside her mouth.  Right then, he lost control.  

She kissed him back and clawed at his back, pushing him closer against her.  He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her arse.  Needing to breathe, he ripped his mouth away from hers and bent his head down to nip at her neck, pulling her skin into his mouth with his teeth and sucking on it.  He felt the palms of her hands flat against his chest as she tried to push against him.

‘No,’ he growled and kissed her mouth again.  His tongue had a rhythm going in her mouth and he faltered as one of her hands gripped his erection and stroked him twice, hard.

She pushed again with her free hand and said something mostly inaudible; the only word he could make out was ‘bed.’  

_Bed?  What?_   Draco had no idea what this word ‘bed’ meant, but as long as Ginny kept pumping him, up and down and quick and hard, he really didn’t give a shit where she led him.  She let go of him as the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed.  She sat down.

The loss of contact cleared Draco’s head.  Ohh, _bed_.  He watched Ginny move to the middle of the bed and lay down, reaching for him to join her.  He did, his knees on either side of her closed thighs.  She arched her neck up, as though to kiss him, but Draco demurred.  He went directly for her breasts – kissing one, sucking on her nipple, as he used his hand to knead the other one.  His teeth lightly dragged her nipple into his mouth and Ginny’s hips lifted in response.  He sucked harder, causing a whimper to sound in the middle of Ginny’s throat.  The fingers on her other breast dug into her skin harder, playing with her nipple until it hardened.

They switched, his teeth dragging against her left side instead.  He felt Ginny’s leg nudge his and he lifted his knee.  She moved her leg under his so that when he set his knee down, it was between her thighs.  Now, he was beyond hard.  He dropped his lower body and ground his erection against her thigh.  He couldn’t concentrate on her breasts as Ginny lifted her hips in time with his, and Draco kissed his way up to her collar bone.

Ginny groaned and took the hand that was still on her breast and moved it down her body until it was at the apex of her thighs.  She put his fingers between the folds and he could feel the heat she radiated from her centre.  He pushed two fingers inside her as far as they would go.  Ginny shook slightly at the contact and groaned again.  He pulled his fingers out and pushed in again quickly and as hard as he could.  A small gasp echoed from between Ginny’s lips as Draco’s teeth sunk into her skin, biting her shoulder.  

Draco lifted his head, barely seeing the teeth marks he’d left behind, and looked at Ginny.  Her lower body was grinding against his hand as his eyes studied her face.  Suddenly her eyes opened.

‘You like that?’ he asked.

Ginny nodded.

‘And when I bit you?’

Ginny nodded again.

‘A right slag, you are.’

Anger flashed across Ginny’s face and she lifted her hand to slap him again.  But Draco was too quick for her and caught her hand before it made contact with his cheek.  He squeezed her hand as she struggled to free her fingers from his grip.  It didn’t work; he was stronger than she was.  He pushed her hand down against the pillow, above her head, lifting his other knee and pushing her other leg outside of his.  He removed his fingers from inside her as Ginny tried to use her other hand to push against Draco, but he caught that one as well and held them both above her head in one of his.

With his free hand, he cupped her breast again, massaging it.  She stopped struggling and when Draco moved his eyes from her hardened nipple up to her face, he saw a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  He loosened his grip on her hands as he felt his way back down between her thighs, finding her opening and pushing himself inside.  There was no need to go slow – they both knew what they were doing and Ginny was hardly a virgin.  A sharp pain drew down Draco’s back as Ginny dragged her fingernails against his skin. 

He pushed in and pulled out of her as forcefully as he could, going quickly, trying to fill her completely.  Her breathing was ragged, coming in gasps and moans.  He was so focused on how it felt to have someone hot and wet surrounding him, engulfing him, that he hardly noticed when Ginny removed her hands from his back until one of them slapped him on the arse – _hard_.

He stopped mid-thrust and stared at her.

‘Harder,’ she growled, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Ohh, if she wanted it harder, he’d give it to her harder.  Draco pulled completely out of her and sat up on his knees.  He took her by the hips and flipped her over, Ginny’s stomach pressed into the duvet.  Then, Draco tugged at Ginny until she got up on her hands and knees, her arse right in front of him.  She was opened up to him and he draped himself over her back, easily pushing back into her, feeling her tighten and loosen her muscles around him.

Ginny pushed her hips back against Draco as he thrust in and out of her, feeling himself go deeper than he had before.  One hand gripped around her breast and he lowered his head and kissed her shoulder blade.

She pushed back as he pushed in further, creating a hot friction between their bodies.  Every time she met his thrusts, Draco bit down.  He felt his orgasm pull itself from his body and he came inside her, his lower body shaking.  His thrusts slowed, but he kept moving in and out until there was nothing left and he began to shrink back down.  Ginny’s arms gave and she fell forward on the bed, panting for breath in a way only someone who had been decently shagged could.

Draco flopped over on his back beside her, his mind completely numb.  For several minutes the only thing he could hear was their breathing returning to normal.  Once Draco had sense of the world again, he realised that he’d come – and hard – but Ginny hadn’t.  Without looking at her, Draco reached over until he found her sex, still wet and warm.  His fingers began to circle her, pressing lightly.  He wasn’t sure she was responding until he added more pressure and Ginny began to rock her hips against his hand.  She opened her legs wider for him and moved closer.  

Her hands moved to his neck and she brought him down for a kiss.  The kiss was everything their fucking wasn’t – soft, slow, sensual.  As Draco moved his fingers faster, Ginny buried her face in the crook of his neck.  When she came, her body shuddered and she gasped, biting down so hard on Draco’s skin that he let out a yelp.  The bite would have been enough to make him hard again if he wasn’t already so utterly spent.

Ginny rolled over on her back, away from him.  Draco felt the bite; something was moist on his shoulder.  When he looked at his fingertips they were slightly red from drops of blood.  He felt like smiling, but couldn’t bring himself to do so.

After that, Draco laid on his back for almost an hour, his eyes looking towards the ceiling but not actually focusing on it.  Without word or noise, Ginny had stood and left the room, gathering her clothes as she went.  He was relieved that she had gone; the silence as they both lay there was suffocating.  He was aware of everything as they lay there – his breathing, her breathing.  The sound of her fingernails against her scalp as she scratched her head.  The smell of sex and sweat that covered his skin.  The sprinkling of freckles over Ginny’s arms and at the top of her breasts that he could see from the corner of his eye.  The way the air moved around the room from the window, which was cracked open, each hair on his body feeling alive from the cold feel of the breeze.  And then the way the springs of the mattress gave and creaked when Ginny pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side, the carpet absorbing the sounds of her footsteps as she left the room.

The ceiling slid in and out of focus.  How did he end up here?  What the _fuck_ was going on with his life?  Six goddamn years in Azkaban on faulty charges and now being babysat by Potter.  Although, Ginny Weasley was one hell of a reward for enduring prison for something he didn’t do.

Thinking about the night he was arrested only caused Draco to get irrationally angry.  He could have told the truth.  He could have insisted that the Ministry interrogate him with Veritaserum or give him a Pensieve to extract his memory of the night.  But he didn’t.  Instead he allowed them to shut him in Azkaban.  It was all for his mother.  The Dark Lord told him if he ever turned his back on him or the Death Eaters that he would personally see to it that his mother, Narcissa, was killed.  His mother might have been cold and aloof, but she loved him.

The Dark Lord had grown obsessed with killing all Mudbloods.  Unfortunately, new Muggle-borns were born every day so there was no way of wiping out all of them.  Unless he got the book.  

Every time a witch or wizard gave birth, the child’s name was magically written down in a great book created by Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor.  It took extensive magical work to perfect the book, but names appeared at the first breath of air the baby took.  The four founders of Hogwarts used the book to keep track of all magical children so when the time came to prepare for a new school term they could make sure all potential students were given letters of acceptance.  The book was limited to children born in the areas surrounding Hogwarts – the kingdoms of England, Alba, and Dyfed, and Orkney, all the clans of now-modern-day Ireland, and remaining lands.

It was then that the founders realised the book was writing down names of all newly born children with significant bits of magical power in them, which included children born to parents without any knowledge of witches and wizards.  Against Salazar’s arguments, they sent letters to those children as well when they became eleven.  Salazar tried to destroy the book, claiming that children born from filth should not be allowed to be educated at Hogwarts.  It was then that the book was hidden by Rowena and given a secret guard.  

Various Fidelius Charms were used over the years to keep the guards a secret and an owl was sent to the Headmaster of Hogwarts each year from a public post owl with a list of all the names of upcoming students, Muggle-born or otherwise.

Other schools had other ways of accepting students, like Durmstrang which required an application and they turned down a vast number of students who applied.  The reason Draco didn’t attend Durmstrang wasn’t because his mother wanted him close to home, but because he was denied.  The Headmaster didn’t think Draco would fare well in the cold of the winters that the North Sea brought – which was probably not far from the truth since Draco was known for whinging about _every_ thing.

The Dark Lord wanted the book Hogwarts used.  He wanted to know the name of each and every Muggle-born child who had his or her name written in the book.  

That was where Draco came in.

He was part of a team of four Death Eaters sent to a small house hidden in the Black Forest of Germany.  They were told to steal the book and kill the guard.  

Lying on the bed in Ginny’s guestroom, Draco closed his eyes and remembered that day clearly, as though he was watching everything happen from a Pensieve.

_Crack!  Crack!  Crack!  Three masked wizards Apparated in the small clearing of trees in front of Draco.  The scurrying sound of small animal feet echoed in the quiet of the forest.  An owl hooted from one of the trees overhead in what seemed like a disapproving way._

 

_‘The old man’s called Millar,’ said a voice, raspy from smoking too much Elfish bark.  The voice belonged to Bagnold, a Death Eater hardly older than Draco, but with an arrogance that surpassed his.  ‘The Dark Lord didn’t give us instructions to which one of us gets to kill him.’_

 

_‘We shou’ let Malfoy kill the fuckin’ blood trai’or,’ said Hillman, his smile visible beneath his mask, yellow teeth in desperate need of a straightening spell.  ‘Since he din’ do it before.  Let ol’ Snape do his job, din’ he?’_

 

_‘You should get your facts straight, Pot-face,’ snapped Draco, watching the crooked smile turn into a sneer.  ‘You best be glad that mask hides all those pimples.  Snape did my job before I could because he didn’t give me a chance.’_

 

_‘So here’s yer big chance now,’ Hillman replied.  ‘Think yeh kin han’le it?’_

 

_‘I can handle it,’ said Draco, ideas already running through his head of how he was going to get himself out of killing an innocent man._

 

_‘Put your bloody mask back on, Goyle!’ Bagnold shouted.  ‘Idiot.’_

 

_Draco could hardly believe the Dark Lord had sent Gregory Goyle on this mission, but there he was, all two-hundred-eighty pounds of him._

 

_‘Let’s go,’ said Draco._

 

_The four of them crept through the woods, their black robes swishing around their ankles as they walked.  Sounds of nightfall filtered through the trees as the day animals quieted down for sleep and the nocturnal ones began to wake up.  Thick, dark clouds covered the moon and all the stars, making the sky appear grey and ominous.  It smelled like rain.  Somewhere off in the distance, Draco thought he heard the whacking sound of thunder.  The air was stagnant, heavy; the way it always felt before a storm._

 

_When they reached the house, they all stopped.  No one spoke for over a minute.  The house in front of them was large, too large to fit between the close trees without the use of magic.  For a moment Draco wondered why they could even see the house at all.  Certainly it was protected by spells.  The Dark Lord must have killed the Secret-Keeper who knew the location of the house, otherwise there was no way the four of them could see it._

 

_But there it was, huge and clearly put together by spells.  Instead of being built straight up, it looked almost upside-down, with the top of the house significantly wider than the bottom.  Green smoke rose in small puffs from one of the three visible chimneys as music from a wireless swam through the air from an open window on the first floor.  The music seemed odd; it sounded somewhat childlike, similar to the music Draco used to listen to on the old music maker his mother bought him when he was four._

 

_‘Goyle, you go up to the third floor, look around for that book.  If you come across Millar, bind him.  It’s Draco’s job to kill him.  I’ll take the second floor.  Draco, you take the first.  And Hillman, once you’re done searching the main level, keep watch at the door in case we’re followed.  Got it?’_

 

_If the Dark Lord hadn’t put Bagnold in charge, Draco would have decked him for being such a pompous git.  Instead, he simply nodded and raised his wand._

 

_Bagnold walked up the steps to the front door of Millar’s house, not bothering to mute his footsteps, and pointed his wand at the doorknob.  Instead of the door simply opening, it exploded with a loud_ boom _!_

 

_Draco ran inside the house, looked for the stairs, and then shot up to the first floor.  The music he heard from outside was much more pronounced and Draco’s entire body turned cold.  There were four bedrooms on the first floor and Draco searched three of them.  Nothing.  He blasted away the furniture and upturned enough floorboards and blew enough holes in the walls to assess that the book was neither underneath the floor nor hidden behind any portraits or paintings.  He knew he had to go into that fourth bedroom, where the music was coming from – where the_ children’s _music was coming from._

 

_For a few moments, Draco stood in the hallway, breathing in deep and slow.  He took his time tearing up the first three rooms, hoping to waste enough minutes that Bagnold would assume he had done a thorough job and not come to inspect for himself.  Draco knew – he_ knew _– there was a child in that room, falling asleep to the lullabies of the wireless._

 

_He opened the door and his eyes were assaulted by pink and lace.  It was far worse than even Pansy Parkinson’s bedroom at her parents’ home.  He used his wand to shut the wireless off and the soothing lullaby music it was playing stopped.  A child’s bed was empty, but pink and white blankets were crumpled up; someone had slept there recently.  Using instinct, Draco dropped to his knees and looked under the bed.  A small girl with pale ginger hair plaited on either side of her head blinked at him, tears staining her cheeks as the back of her hand wiped snot from above her upper lip._

 

_‘What’s your name?’ asked Draco, cursing the gods that a child was in this house.  He thought the guard of the book was old –_ too _old to have a child in his house – and widowed.  He was supposed to live here alone._

 

_The little girl didn’t answer.  From outside in the hallway, Draco could hear the voices of Bagnold and Goyle and then loud, clomping footsteps going down the stairs._

 

_‘If you tell me your name I won’t hurt you.’_

 

_She murmured something._

 

_‘What was that?’_

 

_‘’Manda.’_

 

_‘Amanda?’_

 

_The girl nodded._

 

_‘Right.  Bloody hell.  Amanda, do you live here?’  When she shook her head Draco’s fist clenched around his wand.  She must be a grandchild.  For the love of Salazar-fucking-Slytherin, what was she doing here?_

 

_‘Okay,’ he said, ‘if you listen to me, you won’t get hurt.  You stay under your bed and don’t you dare come out or I’ll use the Cruciatus Curse on you.  D’you know what that is?’_

 

_The girl shook her head._

 

_‘It’s an Unforgivable Curse’ – Amanda’s eyes widened with fear – ‘and it hurts.  It fucking hurts worse than you’ve ever hurt before.  And I’ll use it on you if you don’t stay under your fucking bed.  D’you understand?’_

 

_Amanda nodded, looking unbelievably afraid.  Draco wanted to scare her, to put enough fear into her that she would stay clear of the downstairs._

 

_‘Good.  And you can’t talk or make a sound either.  You open that bloody mouth to do more than breathe and so help me I’ll come in here and kill you myself.’_

 

_New tears fell from Amanda’s eyes.  Draco wasn’t normally this mean but if Bagnold ordered him to kill a child, he had no idea what he would do._

 

_‘When it’s daylight outside I want you to Floo home.  Do you know how to use the Floo?’_

 

_Amanda shook her head._

 

_Draco sneered despite himself.  If she couldn’t even use the bloody Floo then the girl was obviously too young to know how to write a letter to her parents and send it with an owl either._

 

_‘Just don’t come out from underneath this bed until you see your mum, all right?’_

 

_Amanda nodded.  ‘Are you going to hurt my Gramps?’_

 

_Draco didn’t answer.  Instead he got up and left the room in search of Bagnold.  He was going to report that he hadn’t found anything.  The stairs creaked as he descended, letting everyone downstairs know he was coming.  Next to a green fire an old man with grey hair and a grey beard sat bound in a chair, blood dripping from his nose._

 

_‘Where is it?’ Bagnold screamed._

 

_‘I don’ know wub you are ta’king abut,’ said Millar.  The blood from his nose had dripped over his lips and into his mouth.  He spat some of it out, straight at Bagnold._

 

_‘The_ book _!  I want to know where the fucking book is.’_

 

_‘I hab a lib-ry,’ replied Millar, nodding towards the far side of the room where no less than fifteen bookshelves stood side by side filled with leather-bound books._

 

_‘I want the bloody book that lists all the newborn witches and wizards!’_

 

_Millar scrunched up his face as though he had no idea what Bagnold was talking about.  The old wizard was a very good actor.  And oddly calm.  But perhaps he was trying to play it down so that no one would find out about Amanda upstairs._

 

_‘Did you find anything?’ Bagnold snapped, rounding on Draco._

 

_‘No,’ said Draco, shaking his head.  ‘I didn’t find a single thing.  I blasted away all the portraits and made holes in the wall, but nothing was there.  I even upturned floorboards.  All of the furniture is in little bits, but still, nothing.’  Draco turned to Millar, looking straight into his eyes.  ‘I didn’t find a goddamn thing.’_

 

_Bagnold pointed his wand at the bookshelves and instantly, all the books went up in flames._

 

_‘The book’s not here!’ yelled Bagnold.  ‘This is a fucking gnome chase.  Leave him here.  Let the goddamn fire get him.’_

 

_He started towards the door, Goyle and Hillman following him.  Draco stared at the fire, watching the orange flames eat away at the bookshelves and burn through the floorboards.  The smell of smoke filled the downstairs, and foggy blackness began to engulf the room._

 

_Amanda’s room was on the other side of the house, but Draco was positive she’d stay under her bed, even if it meant getting burnt alive.  He’d certainly tried to scare her enough not to show her face._

 

_‘Malfoy!  Why are you just bloody standing there?’_

 

_‘I think someone should stay behind and make sure he dies,’ he stammered, surprised at his excuse to stay at the house._

 

_‘He’s going to die.’_

 

_Draco turned.  ‘It’s reckless assumptions like that that keep us from winning this war!’ he snarled, knowing that it was the truth.  The Dark Lord was more careless than he should be._

 

_Bagnold sneered, a snarling sound escaping from his throat.  ‘Fine,’ he said.  ‘Fucking stay here, then.  Let the fire get you, too!’  And with a_ crack! _he Disapparated._

 

_Goyle and Hillman followed with two_ cracks! _of their own._

 

_Draco conjured some water for the fire, but the fire consumed it and burned harder than before.  He shouted every spell he knew – spells for short-lived rain, spells to put-out normal flames, spells to Vanish all the books and bookshelves.  Whatever type of fire spell Bagnold used, Draco had no idea how to put it out.  It began to climb the walls and ceiling._

 

_‘What did they use to bind you?’ asked Draco, turning his focus on Millar._

 

_‘I don’ know.  Non-verb’l sbell.  Don’ wowwy abut me.  Jus’ get_ her _.’_

 

_Draco nodded and run up the stairs.  He kicked open the door to Amanda’s room and dropped his knees again.  The wooden floorboards were growing hot underneath him._

 

_‘You have to come with me!’ he commanded, reaching out to grab her._

 

_Amanda slapped his hand away, cowering more fully into the corner._

 

_‘This isn’t a fucking game.  COME HERE!’_

 

_She shook her head and kicked at Draco, refusing to let him take hold of her._

 

_‘GODDAMN IT!’ he shouted, pointing his wand at her.  ‘_ Stupefy! _’_

 

_Amanda’s body went limp and Draco pulled her from beneath the bed.  She was light in his arms as he raced out of her room and back down the stairs.  He planned on getting the old wizard next, but the fire had begun to eat its way across the room and had started to burn up Millar’s legs.  A low scream from deep in Millar’s throat competed against the loud crackling of the fire.  His eyes turned to Draco; they were full of pain and fear.  Millar’s legs were black, his shoes already ash.  His hands shook against the restraints, his body beginning to convulse from the pain of being burnt alive._

 

_‘Peeze!’ he screamed, his mouth still red with blood._

 

_The ‘please’ sounded like the way Dumbledore had pleaded to Snape.  It made Draco sick to his stomach; he wanted to vomit, pass out, and forget any of this was happening.  The smell of burning flesh assaulted Draco’s nose; he had to get out of the room.  He pointed his wand at Millar and shouted, ‘_ Avada Kedavra! _’_

 

_Immediately, the pleading screams stopped and Millar’s body ceased its convulsing and relaxed in the chair.  Draco ran out of the door as the fire began to creep across the floor towards him and the girl in his arms._

 

_Once outside, a bolt of lightning struck the ground somewhere close to the house, lighting up the area.  Draco could clearly see several figures in front of him.  He knew he was in trouble now._

 

_Straight, colourful lines flew through the air at him.  Spells.  Curses.  Aurors must be here.  Dodging them didn’t give Draco much time to focus on Side-Along Apparation.  He was able to block each of the spells thrown at him as he ran behind a tree.  Amanda fell from his arms to the ground.  He hoped if she just lay there by the trees that she wouldn’t get hit by any spells._

 

_It was right then that the grey clouds broke and sent gushes of rain falling down._

 

_Through the blinding rain, Draco saw an Auror approach him.  All he wanted to do was just Apparate home, but the Auror had his wand up and at the ready.  Draco raised his own wand and Banished the oncoming wizard.  There was so much anger behind the spell that the Auror was thrown from his feet and back into a nearby tree with such force that the trunk cracked and broke.  In the moment that Draco paused in amazement and fear, a spell hit him from the side, hard enough to send a shooting pain through his veins before everything turned black ..._

Rowena Ravenclaw was very clever.  She found several witches and wizards to act as Secret-Keepers for houses all across the lands.  Each of those Secret-Keepers thought they were keeping the location of the book a secret, not knowing they were part of Rowena’s clever plan.  If Salazar wanted to destroy the book, he would have to track down each Secret-Keeper and she never told anyone just how many Secret-Keepers she had made.

Millar’s house was the location of one of the fake Secret-Keepers, but the Dark Lord hadn’t told them that there was a possibility the book wouldn’t be there.

The Auror that hit the tree was killed instantly and without Millar alive to give an alternate version of events, all the Aurors at the scene assumed Draco was trying to kidnap his granddaughter.  

Six years in Azkaban for trying to save a little girl’s life.  It was bloody ridiculous.  Still, Draco wasn’t about to tell the truth and risk his own life or the life of his mother.  He figured he could endure Azkaban since the Dementors were no longer in charge.  How bad could it be?

In the end, it had been bad.  He’d been alone, isolated, and without the touch of a woman – until tonight.  After living in Potter’s house and dealing with him every single day, Draco thought being back at Azkaban might be a better deal.  

But Azkaban didn’t have Ginny and having her tonight made dealing with Potter almost bearable.  He just wondered if and when he’d get to have Ginny again.

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX


	8. Chapter 8 : The Boy Without a Name

**WARNING : Please be advised that this chapter contains dark and disturbing content, which at times is descriptive and graphic, of a sexual nature, and is psychologically heavy.  Read at your own discretion. **

 

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Eight:  The Boy Without a Name**

XXXXXXX

The last time the boy saw his mother he was only seven years old.  It was strange how all the memories of her bled together except for that one.  He could explicitly remember how she told him she had a headache and was going to go to bed early and walked down the short corridor to her bedroom.  The door locked with a soft _click_.  Even though he was only seven, he felt something was off, something was different.  The air seemed stagnant and the strange scent of wildflowers filled it as his mother ran her bath.  

For as long as the boy could remember, his mother had hair the same brown colour as the mice that ran around their kitchen, only that last day it was limp, stringy, and hung into her eyes. 

Four days passed and his mother stayed in her room.  He wasn’t sure if he should go in and see what was going on.  Finally, on the fourth day a man knocked on the front door.  But not just any man.  _The_ man.  Every time he saw him, the hair covering the boy’s flesh stood on end and his fingers ached to curl themselves around the man’s throat and squeeze.

His mother called the man _Aleksandr_.  He was tall, with broad shoulders, crooked teeth, and thick black eyebrows that met in the middle.  His eyes seemed hidden behind the bushy brows and the less the boy could see of those eyes, the better.  They held cold indifference and apathy.  The eyes changed when they looked at his mother; then they were full of hatred and madness.  

When the boy’s mother spoke to Aleksandr, she spoke in Russian, but had spent the past two years trying to make sure the boy spoke English.  The only thing Aleksandr had ever done for the boy’s mother was to speak to him in English.

‘ _Vair_ _is she, boy?_ ’ he asked in his accent, looking around the house from where he stood in the doorway.

The boy pointed to his mother’s room.  He’d seen the man go into her room several times, his velvet red cloak billowing behind him as he marched down the hallway, his boots clicking against the hardwood floor, his knuckles rapping on the door, his hand turning the knob, and his foot kicking the door down.

Sometimes the boy would go to the doorway and watch.  Normally the scene was the same.  The man, Aleksandr, would extinguish all the candles with his wand and pull the boy’s mother from her bed.

‘ _You veak little vench,_ ’ he’d snarl, raising a hand or a foot as she tried to scramble away.  She never got far and would end up cowering in a darkened corner of her room, her hands over her head as she wet the floor with her tears.

‘ _You arre nothing but stoopid voman._ _You arre not good enough to lick the dirt auf my boot.’_

She’d cry and her eyes would shift towards the doorway.  When the boy was standing there, he could see the desperate look in her eye.  The one that silently shouted to him, _help me!_ but he ignored it and watched the man beat her until she stopped crying and lay in the corner, swollen and bleeding.

‘ _That’s vat you haff to do to them.  Vomen arre being veak creatures.  Ve men arre being strong.  You must show them who is powerful._ ’

The boy never spoke to Aleksandr; he’d always nod his understanding.

‘ _My father beat me ven I vos boy.  It make you strong man later in life.  Do you understand?_ ’

The boy would simply nod.

‘ _I said, do you understand, you stoopid little bastard?_ ’

The man would raise his hand to the boy, as he always did, and backhand him across the face, pushing him back with such force he’d fall backwards and collide against the wall.  It seemed to feel as though everything went into slow motion.  The boy would first feel Aleksandr’s knuckles pressing into his skin, then the bone of his hand as it pushed his head to the side with so much strength, the boy wondered how his neck never snapped from the slap.  For seconds at a time everything would go black and when he could see again, the room would spin back and forth as though he was aboard a ship on rough waters.  He looked at his mother with the same desperation in his eyes, but she never moved from her corner; she never tried to help him, only cowered there, weak as she was, in her pool of tears, blood and vomit.

For the final time, Aleksandr kicked down his mother’s bedroom door.  The boy went and sat on the settee, so old and worn the once-red sofa was now almost pink and the stuffing was coming out in several places.  His mother asked him to sew it up before he, _the man_ , came back, but the boy never did.  And if Aleksandr ever noticed the settee, stuffing spilling out, he’d hit the boy’s mother harder, furious at the way she kept her house.

‘ _You can vrite, yes?_ ’ the man had said.  ‘ _Send letter to your grandmother.  Tell her your mother is dead._ ’

He did as he was told, writing his grandmother’s full name on the outside of the note, _Arina_ _Chernova_ , though spelled horribly wrong.  Then the boy sat on the sofa again and didn’t move for the next two days.  He didn’t eat or drink; he didn’t sleep.  The man came back, bringing Arina Chernova with him.  Even though she had moved back and forth between Russia and Ukraine her entire life, the boy’s grandmother spoke perfect English with hardly an accent while Aleksandr spoke brokenly, his voice laced with thick Russian tones.

The first thing Mrs Chernova did when she entered the house was scrunch up her short nose.  ‘What’s that smell?’

The boy’s mother had been dead almost a week and the odour was beginning to filter through the air.  The man told Mrs Chernova as much and she closed her eyes and set her jaw as though she was furious and trying to calm herself down.  When she opened her eyes, she focused on the boy.

‘I haven’t seen you in almost a year.  You haven’t grown much, have you?’

‘I think he is mute.  He never says nothing ven I am in room.’

‘Stand up, boy.’

The boy stood and looked at his grandmother.  Her hair was mostly grey, but with streaks of brown that hinted that she was getting older, but still young.  Her face was tight, her lips in a thin line.  She stood rigid and straight, as though a pole had been taped to her back.  She looked as cold and indifferent as the man, only thin and frail.  Her slender frame was the only redeeming quality about her looks; the boy figured she wouldn’t beat him like the man did.

‘Is the body still in there?’

Aleksandr nodded.  ‘I did not move it.  I haff not caring for vat happens to it.’

The boy frowned.  His mother had been reduced to an ‘it’, though the anger that it should have invoked was nowhere to be found.  He supposed most children would cry if their parents died, but his mother didn’t deserve his tears, something that even at seven, he understood.

‘How much will it take for you to dispose of the body?’

‘How?’

‘Burn it.’  Mrs Chernova looked around the tiny house.  ‘Burn the whole house.  The reminder of her is not necessary.’

‘This is Ewen town.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Oh, you haff different vord.  How you say, not magic?’

‘Muggle.’

‘Yes,’ said Aleksandr, ‘this is Muggle town.  Burning it vould bring police and questions.’

‘How much to burn it?’ Mrs Chernova asked.  She didn’t seem the least bit frightened of Aleksandr, but the boy supposed she didn’t know how badly he had beaten him and his mother for the past seven years.

‘One thousand.’

‘Galleons?  I’ll send you an owl with a bag of it.’  She turned her eyes back to the boy.  ‘We’re leaving this house,’ she said to him.  ‘You’ll come and live with me in Ukraine.  Come along, then.’

The boy didn’t move. 

‘Are you deaf and dumb?  I told you to come.’

Still, the boy didn’t move.

‘What is wrong with him?’ Mrs Chernova said, looking at Aleksandr.

‘He is mute.  He never says nothing.’

‘I’ve heard him speak before.  He’s certainly capable of speech.’

‘I make him talk,’ said the man, taking a few steps towards the boy.

‘You most certainly will not!’ cried the boy’s grandmother.  ‘Any hand you’ve had in his upbringing has certainly not paid off.  He looks ghastly.  He’s too thin and looks rather stupid.  I certainly have my work cut out for me, don’t I?  He’ll come to my house in Ukraine and he’ll learn how to be a proper man.’

‘You are voman.  How vill you teach him to be powerful like a man?’

‘I daresay _you_ are not entertaining the idea of raising this boy?  Are you even his father?  I doubt my daughter even knows who his father is.  I’m taking him with me.  Boy, come here.’

‘But ...’ whispered the boy, speaking for the first time.  ‘My clothes and things.’

‘What things do you have?  Do you even have a bedroom here?’

The boy shook his head.  ‘I sleep in the dining room.  Under the table.  It’s my cave.’

Mrs Chernova raised her chin higher, looking down at the boy over the tip of her pointy nose.  ‘Everything in this house is filth.  Do you hear me?  Filth.  Leave your things.  My tailor will make you new clothes.’

The boy thought this was a fairly good deal, so he left with his grandmother.  She used Side-Along Apparation to go to the wizarding train station in St Petersburg.  They boarded one of the magical trains to take them from Russia to Ukraine.  The boy watched the scenery pass by in a blur, realising he wasn’t going to miss anything about Russia.

‘You’ll call me Mrs Chernova,’ said the boy’s grandmother after nearly an hour of silence and several stops along the way.  ‘I don’t know if your mother taught you proper Russian, but you’ll only speak English in my presence and proper English at that.  I’ll not have you go off to school only speaking Russian.  My mother was English and her parents wept when she married a Russian.  Still, it gave her reason to leave England.  She’s the first Englishwoman to be introduced to the Petrovski bloodline for a thousand years.  When I married, of course, I went from being a Petrovski to being a Chernova.  Even though my mother is English, no one else from England is worth anything, boy, and you’ll do well to remember that.  Not that I suspect you know anything about England.’

‘I know Hogwarts is there,’ said the boy.

Anger flashed through Mrs Chernova’s eyes.  ‘Hogwarts is a school for idiots and fools.  Your mother went to Krimkorski’s Academy in the northern-most part of Russia.  Your grandmother went to Durmstrang.  Both fine, fine schools.  You’ll attend one of those.’

The boy nodded.  He wasn’t even sure how he knew about Hogwarts.  His mother never did magic much, hardly at all, so he supposed it must have been a snippet of conversation he overheard.

‘You’ll tell no one who you are, only that you are orphaned and I have taken you in.  You’re the bastard son of a whore and no one needs to know more than that.  You are never to speak of your mother or your father – do you know who he is?’ 

The boy shook his head.

‘Just as well.  My family was whole before your mother ran away, but she was ashamed she was with child and left.  She refused to come back and lived in that ramshackle since you were born.  We never prided on her being clever, though your English is passable so she did that much for you.  Judging on the construction of the letter you wrote me, you have a lot to learn.  I’ll find someone to teach you.’

‘You won’t teach me?’ asked the boy.

‘Me?  Are you quite mad?  I have more important things to do than teach a boy how to read and write.’

‘I _know_ how to read and write!’ cried the boy.

‘Not well enough.  Your mother was disgrace enough on my family.  I shall not have you be a disgrace as well.’

The boy nodded and looked back out the window.  Silence encased the compartment as they made the rest of their train trip.  The boy dozed off, his forehead against the cold window glass.  He dreamt of his mother, asleep in the bathtub, her lips so pale they were indistinguishable from the rest of her face, her eyes half-closed, a short glass filled with golden-brown liquid on the tub ledge.  He dreamt she opened her mouth and groaned, the sorts of sounds he was used to hearing seep through the crack under her bedroom door whenever Aleksandr was with her.  The boy never knew if the groans were in pleasure or pain, but he never really cared to know the difference.

XXXXXXX

Arina Chernova’s home was bigger than any house the boy had ever seen, four stories high with two wings, eleven guestrooms, two parlours, two kitchens, and one large library.  She employed fourteen house-elves and had a stable with three horses and one unicorn her husband had captured out of the forest a few towns over.  The boy was apathetic about the house.  He wasn’t allowed in any room Mrs Chernova hadn’t given him express permission to enter.  He was bound to the first two stories and only allowed in the library and his own bedroom on the second; all other rooms were forbidden.

She continued to call him ‘Boy’ whenever she required his presence, which wasn’t often.  Days would go by without the boy seeing his grandmother.  She conducted business away from the house, business that she refused to speak of.  When the witches and wizards she did business with came to the Chernova home, she locked the boy in his room so no one would see him.  The house-elf that looked after his feeding and bathing would Apparate in and out of his room whenever he was locked inside and would deliver him food and clean clothing.

Mrs Chernova found the boy a worldly tutor named Kateryna Trandenkova, a girl on the young side of her twenties with long blonde hair she pulled back into a loose plait that hung all the way down her back.  The girl spoke English, Russian, and French, as well as her native Ukrainian, and taught the boy European wizarding history, arithmetic, and grammar.  She worked on his Russian as well as his English, preparing him for Durmstrang, as the professors taught classes in both languages.  Krimkorski’s school taught in only Russian, which the boy seemed more proficient in.

Kateryna stayed the boy’s tutor for over three years, though whenever she was near him he felt as though she found him disgusting and revolting.  She never looked him in the eye when he spoke to her and he’d come to regard her visits as a waste of time.  He did his schooling with a yawn and never committed anything he learnt to memory.

He was almost nine years old when Kateryna began teaching him about magical creatures.  She showed him pictures that moved in books and brought in some smaller animals she was able to catch around Ukraine for the boy to look at up close.

One Friday Kateryna brought in a bowtruckle, trapped in a small cage.

‘My brother brought it to me after he visited Germany.  Look at it,’ she told the boy as she was about to leave, ‘and feed it leaves and grass tonight around dinner time.  Let it go in the morning and we shall talk about what you observed on Monday.’

The boy nodded and Kateryna left.

But he didn’t feed the creature.  It was a curious-looking thing, very peculiar.  It looked just like a tree, with small branches for arms and legs and twigs for fingers and toes.  The boy found some Spellotape and took the tree creature out of the cage and taped it down on the desk he and Kateryna used in the library.

He tickled its tummy and the creature emitted a sound that must have been a laugh.  The boy grew more interested in the small animal and searched through the desk drawers, shuffling through parchments and discarded quills until he pulled out a letter opener with an ivory handle.

When he cut through the tree creature’s right leg, he Spellotaped its mouth shut to stop the screeching.  The noise was unbearable.  Funny, the creature bled red, just like humans.

The dissection continued until it was his bedtime and one of the house-elves, whose name was  Dottie, came to fetch him for bed.  The boy told Dottie to dispose of the tree-looking animal and get him some water for his bedside table.  

As he fell asleep against his satiny-feeling pillow, blankets pulled up to his chin, the boy thought of the bowtruckle and the red stain that was surely still on the desk and smiled.

XXXXXXX 

The cold during the boy’s third December at the Chernova mansion was miserable.  Whenever he stepped outside, the cold pressed down upon his body, as though the negative wind-chill was trying to freeze him from the inside out and stop his beating heart.  The air never moved, but the temperatures continued to steadily drop and instead of snow, the ground was covered in ice so thick it appeared white, the grass disappearing underneath its depth and tree limbs drooping from its weight.  

Ice and snow was nothing new to the boy who had seen it during the winters in Russia, but his mother liked to keep him indoors at their house, almost as though she was hiding him.  On the other hand, Mrs Chernova wanted the boy outside, wanted fresh air to fill his lungs, and forced him to ‘take in the nature’ around the house for at least one hour each day.  When it was still bearable out, the boy would wander into the trees and find small animals – rats, mice – or perhaps insects or things that slithered about like worms or centipedes.  He had a collection, his own little menagerie to poke and prod, to watch squirm and convulse and bleed.  The first time he took the bowtruckle, he killed it.  Since then, he prolonged it, the torture of these living things.  Torture was not what the boy thought it was.  He thought it exploration.  He thought it investigation.  He thought it education.

He discovered that if one forced bubotuber pus down a rat’s throat, it bled thick, blue goo.  Or if a Flobberworm was severed in half, it didn’t die for three weeks.  It was learning.  He knew things about creatures that surely no one else knew.  

It wasn’t actual education, however.  That was the excuse he told when he was caught.  

Kateryna came over on a Saturday, for his birthday, wearing her winter garb, thick and mostly wool, with a permanent heating charm in the lining.  The boy hadn’t known she was coming.  In fact, he hadn’t even known it was his birthday at all.  But Kateryna came and knocked on his bedroom door.  In her hand was a present wrapped in gold paper and tied up with a green bow.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, her eyes looking at his hands.  ‘Is that blood?’

‘No.  What’s that?’

‘A present.  Mrs Chernova told me it was your birthday.  Happy Birthday.  What do you have on your hands?’

‘Oh.  It’s my birthday?  What’s today?’

‘The fourteenth.  Didn’t you know?’

‘No.  I’ve never had a birthday before.’

‘You have lived here for three years.’

‘Mrs Chernova never gave me a birthday.  Why haven’t you ever got me a present before?’

‘It’s, “Why haven’t you ever _given_ me a present before.”  And it is because I hadn’t an idea as to when it was.’

‘That’s a terrible reason.’

Kateryna frowned, though she never did smile much.  ‘Are you going to invite me in your room so you can open your present?’

‘I can open it here.’

‘Invite me in,’ said Kateryna, all light vanishing from her eyes.

The boy stepped away from the door, allowing Kateryna to walk inside.  Her loose plait moved back and forth across her back as she walked, the small heels of her shoes clicking against the hardwood floor.

‘What _is_ this?’ she said, her voice betraying her and revealing emotion.  She was always so stoic, so distant.  She reminded the boy of Mrs Chernova only younger.  

Kateryna reached out and lightly touched the wooden cages held together with Spellotape and some sort of magical glue-all.  Inside were the animals and the insects.

‘It’s my menagerie.’

‘This is not a menagerie,’ breathed Kateryna, the disgusted tone filling the boy’s ears.  ‘This is a torture chamber.’

‘That’s not true.  I’m not torturing them.  I’m learning about animals.  You told me to.’

‘I did not tell you to cut off the tails of rats—’

‘You told me to study them and learn all I could.  Books don’t tell you what happens when you cut off a rat’s tail.  Get out of my room.’

‘Mrs Chernova was nice enough to allow you into her home and you desecrate it with—’

‘I haven’t even _seen_ her in a fortnight.’

‘She will not approve of this.’

‘That’s why you aren’t going to tell her.’

Kateryna shook her head.  ‘No, I must tell her.  This is not normal.’

His heart pumped hard and his body grew hot, as though the blood in his veins was actual fury in liquid form.  As though by instinct, the boy’s fists clenched and began to shake.  His eyes bored straight into Kateryna’s; it was the first time he had ever been able to look her in the eye for more than a second or two.  She could _not_ tell his grandmother about the animals.  His grandmother disapproved of everything he did already and this might be the final straw for her.  The boy didn’t want to be sent back to Russia and if Kateryna told, he might find himself back there with Aleksandr punching him in the face again and this time no mother to alleviate some of the beatings by taking them herself.

He stared at Kateryna; she took a few steps back, away from his stare.  Suddenly the boy realised he was not looking _at_ her eyes, but _through_ her eyes.  He was surrounded by pink cloudy fog.  And then he felt fear.  But it wasn’t his own fear.  It was Kateryna’s.  It soaked into his skin and began to get pumped through his veins along with his own anger.  The fear fuelled him and the boy walked through the fog.  He walked until he found something that looked like a moving photograph – of Kateryna and him in his room with the stacks of rudimentary cages behind them.  He heard the photo’s conversation; it was the exact same one they had had only moments before.

_This is Kateryna’s mind_ , the boy thought.  Her emotions, her memories.  Things were cloudy and fuzzy, but perhaps that was because she knew the boy was in her head.

_DON’T TELL MRS CHERNOVA_ , the boy screamed at Kateryna’s mind.  _DON’T TELL HER OR I’LL PRETEND YOU’RE PART OF MY ANIMAL EDUCATION!_

The fear he felt intensified tenfold, like a flash-fire.  The boy knew Kateryna wouldn’t tell his grandmother anything.  She was afraid of him, even though he was only ten years old, less than half her age.

Not sure how to get back into his room, the boy pushed himself and told his eyes to blink.  He did and shook his head, regaining the feeling of normalcy inside his mind.  When he opened his eyes again, Kateryna was pressed against the wall, her face ashen and her eyes wide with fright.  He, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch.

‘How did you – it takes years – were you just,’ sputtered Kateryna, never blinking.  ‘I must leave.  I must go home.’

The boy didn’t watch her leave.  He picked up her package and undid the bow and tore off the paper.  It was a book, typical of a tutor.  On the front cover, a note was clipped, written in Kateryna’s neat and curly handwriting.

_A book for your birthday that will hopefully continue to pique your interest in Magical Creatures._ _~K. Trandenkova_

He crumpled up the note and tossed it in the rubbish bin next to his desk.  His fingers touched the red leather of the book, his thumb running over the gold lettering:  FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM, 3rd EDITION.

XXXXXXX

Christmas came and Christmas went and if the boy hadn’t read about Christmas in books he probably wouldn’t have noticed.  Mrs Chernova had put a tree up in the entry hall of her mansion, but the boy was only permitted in the back garden and woods that extended far away from the house so he never got a chance to look at the twinkling lights or white angel with her hands held out in welcome.  If he had, he might have thought of the irony of having such an inviting tree in a house where doors were closed and locked and silence was insisted upon.

On New Year’s, the boy learned how to pick the lock of his bedroom door.  He knew the wizarding laws, of how no one under seventeen was allowed to do magic unless inside the walls of school and school was still over a year away.  Still, the boy wished he could have a wand.  The things he could do if only he had a wand.  Tearing apart the bowtruckle would have been much simpler with a wand as aid.

The boy wandered around the house that New Year’s Eve and found himself outside the door to the dining hall where his grandmother entertained a hundred guests, mostly business associates and Ministry officials.  She knew how to keep herself with money and out of trouble with the law.  The boy lingered at the door for only a few minutes, but long enough to hear his grandmother dismiss any rumours about his lineage.

_‘I hear you took in an orphan.’_

 

_‘A disgusting boy._ _I could not stand the thought of him wandering our streets.  I have been educating him so he can go off to school next year and not be completely incompetent.  Hopefully my hard work will have paid off.’_

 

_‘Who is he?’_

 

_‘No one._ _A bastard child of a whore.  I do not even know his last name.  I suppose I shall have to give him one.’_

 

_‘Will you call him Chernovo?’_

 

_‘Certainly not!_ _I will not have such filth associated with my family or me.’_

The blood in the boy’s veins felt thick as it shot through his body.  It drummed in his ears as his heart pumped with very strong _buhm_ _, buhm, buhms_.  Filth.  Bastard.  Incompetent.  The boy knew what these words meant.  He knew what these people thought of those words.  That he was no better than the next common Muggle.  But it simply was not true.  He was a pureblood.  His mother was a witch.  His father was a wizard.  Or so his mother had told him once.  His mother didn’t like to do magic; her skills were dismal and even a spell taught to first-years wouldn’t last.

The boy rubbed his hands together, wiggling his fingers.  There was unrest in his hands, as though he needed to squeeze something.  To hurt something.  To kill something.

Near the backdoor to the kitchen lay a small dog, the size of a teacup, with long brown hair and pink bows at the ears.  Her name was Brownie and received more approval and love from Mrs Chernova than the boy thought he had in her.  That urge to do something terrible was now a need to do it to Brownie.

The rugs absorbed the boy’s footsteps as he went into the kitchen and picked the pup up by the ears.  He instructed the house-elves to keep their mouths shut or else he’d kill them next.  The elves avoided his eyes in much the same manner as Kateryna had always avoided them, with the same look of fear and panic.

Up in his room, the boy poked at the dog, made her yelp, made her whimper and cry.  He tied her up, watched her try to squirm out of the ropes.  He pulled out his letter opener from his desk, a kitchen knife, and a straight razor from a set his grandmother kept in one of the guest bathrooms for the male guests who stayed overnight.  

The dog looked up at him, wide brown eyes, hardly any pupil, in silence.  As though asking, _why?_

‘Because,’ the boy answered, ‘I can’t do this to _her_.’

The dog still looked at him and the boy wondered if he could do to the dog what he did to Kateryna.  He concentrated, looked hard into those puppy eyes and soon found himself floating in a yellow fog, with pictures of bones and fluffy velvet pillows and soft hands that scratched right between the ears.  

He picked up the letter opener.

His body flooded with pain.  Sharp pricks, long, drawn-out stabs.  His skin burned, but when he looked down at himself, his flesh was unblemished.  He could _feel_ the pain just as he had felt Kateryna’s fear.  The terror in the dog could not compare to the emotions he had got from Kateryna; the canine’s senses felt less, dulled, but nevertheless, were still present.  What amazed the boy was the _aching_ and the _throbbing_.  He groaned.  His head felt light, airy, as though his brain was swimming through water.  

He dropped his tools, the dog so close to death the boy could almost taste it in his mouth – a bitter taste of liquid metal, of viscous blood.  The twinge in his fingers hadn’t faded.  It had lessened, but was still there.

Wiggling his fingers, the boy put them around the pup’s throat and squeezed.  Slowly, the pain and fear drifted away, as though pulled from his body.  Dissipating pain, going away, towards some place peaceful and calm.  

Once the dog was dead, the boy found himself back inside his bedroom.  Quickly, the boy took the pillowcase off one of his pillows and threw the dog inside.  He tied the top and placed it in his satchel, the one he used to collect things from woods when his grandmother banished him from the house.  Mrs Chernova thought the bag was to gather interesting looking rocks or leaves, but, really, it was where the boy brought home small animals and insects, usually stuffed in various-sized jars.

The boy flopped down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling.  He rested his hands on his chest, his legs together and straight, his eyes unblinking, as though he was a corpse in a coffin drawn in one of the many books he read in the Chernova library.

He gave no thought to how his hands were dyeing his shirt crimson.

XXXXXXX

The dog was the first, but nowhere near the last.  The boy graduated to other animals, slowly honing his mental skills and teaching himself how to enter their minds at any time.  At first he could only do it when he was angry, but after a few short months he was able to do it no matter how he was feeling.  

When Mrs Chernova walked out in the back garden early that next morning, calling for Brownie, the boy yawned, turned over on his side, and pulled his blankets back up to his chin.  He fell back asleep listening to her cries.

Once the summer hit, the boy had decided to move on to bigger things.  Normal animals became too easy.  Squirrels and rabbits didn’t hold the same thrill.  He sought out magical creatures such as Streelers, Puffskeins, Nogtails, gnomes, and Clabberts.  Nogtails gave the boy the most satisfaction, as he’d seen them terrorise a farm when he lived in Russia.  

At first the effects he felt were mental and emotional.  As time passed and the tortures grew more intense, the effects began to become physical.  The boy wouldn’t know it then, but there was a strange stirring across his belly that extended into his thighs.  He didn’t know what to do about the feeling and wasn’t sure if he liked it – and truth was, at that time there was nothing he _could_ have done, only being ten and one-half years.

Kateryna took off the entire month of July to travel and visit family in different parts of Ukraine and in France.  When she returned the second week of August, the boy had grown tired of the small animals and wanted to get back into Kateryna’s head.

Every time, she knew he was there.  She’d sense him in her mind and try to push him out.  He told her if she left her position as tutor he’d kill her and she must have believed him for she never resigned or disappeared.  By the time his eleventh birthday came around, he was able to float in and out of Kateryna’s head without her noticing.  He’d watch her memories, have them play out in front of him like a Muggle film reel.  He could access anything he wanted to, from childhood birthdays to tea parties with her mother, from schoolwork to end-of-term examinations, from kisses, caresses, gasping breaths, and legs so tangled together he hardly knew which limb belonged to whom to tears, broken hearts, and snot gathering on upper lips.

Kateryna’s life was there for his amusement.  He tried to get her to do things, but he never held that sort of influence.  He wished he could make her do what he wanted.  Once, he tried to send her thoughts of heat and sunshine and fire so that she might take off her clothes, but she only removed her cardigan and pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks before picking up her quill again and marking up his schoolwork.

Entering Kateryna’s mind still held interest, but he was growing bored of that as well.  The same feelings he got from torturing the animals were absent in her.  He wanted to hurt her – to see how she felt while he hurt her, but he couldn’t come up with a way to do so without getting sent away from his grandmother’s house.  And while he wasn’t particularly happy there, it was still his home and he could do far better there than in any orphanage in Ukraine or the rest of Europe.  

The boy went back to the animals.  In truth, he never fully left them.  It was like a sordid love affair he couldn’t end no matter how hard he tried.  It was his addiction, his drug, and he got higher off entering the minds of animals than he ever would smoking the finest Elfish Bark.  This was a fact he would find out later in life, when he near his adult years and tried to find other things to rid him of the boredom life brought on.

After perfecting his Legilimency (though at the time he didn’t know that was what it was called) with Kateryna, the boy tried to do it when she was out of the room, out of sight.  It was too great a task for him and he couldn’t do it.

Kateryna left Mrs Chernova’s employment the following July without a single goodbye or regret.  The boy watched her leave, willing her to come back, but she kept walking until she reached a large, knot-filled tree near the edge of the front garden.  She Disapparated and the boy never saw her again.  Thoughts of her filtered in and out of his head, she appeared to him in dreams, and he thought he would never get over her departure.

Until he met Viktoriya Tverskaya, an eleven-year-old girl with dark brown hair and eyes, watching the ocean as she stood near the stern of the ship that was taking them to Durmstrang Institute.  

XXXXXXX

‘ _Mister Ivanski!_ ’

The boy’s ears perked up and he looked away from his parchment and towards his Transfiguration professor.  

‘Vat is the issue, mm?  I think you vould not ignore your parents at home!  So vhy is it that you ignore me vhile I am teaching you the art of Transfiguration?’

‘I don’t have parents,’ replied the boy, his eyes staring straight at his professor.  ‘There’s no one at home to ignore in the first place.’

Her lips formed a straight, tight line as she stared at him.  She ripped her eyes away after several seconds and continued to teach the class the proper wand movements for changing a Muggle pencil into a pushpin.

Class was dismissed and the boy made his way, alone, towards the dining hall for supper.  School had been in session for two months and he found he rather liked magic.  He’d never been allowed to perform it before, but now he was quite fond of his wand and never went anywhere without it.  Several of the other first-years forgot their wands on the weekends or during their free time because they all seemed so unused to being able to actually do magic.  The boy never forgot.  He wanted to be close to his wand always.

He liked most of his classes, even though first-years didn’t get to choose electives.  There was History of Wizarding Europe (a pre-requisite to take the additional history classes which were required for all years, though once one became a fourth-year, one could choose which history to take, from American Wizard History to Ancient Wizard Times), Charms, Transfiguration, Duelling, and Potions.  Classes such as Astronomy or Divination were less emphasised at Durmstrang and were only given once a year as one-term classes.

‘Hey, Ivan, wait up!’

The boy stopped and turned around.  Viktoriya was running towards him, her plaited pigtails bouncing off her shoulders.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello,’ he said.  Viktoriya was in his house and they shared the same class schedule.  Yet, she’d never spoken to him other than to ask him to pass the butter or the roasted potatoes.  Once she asked him how he had fared on one of their surprise Charms exams.  He’d earned full marks and extra credit for knowing the inventors of each charm, the only one in the entire year who had done so well.  Viktoriya’s mouth had formed a small _O_ of shock and awe and told him well done.

‘So, Professor Krimkowski is rather – oh, how you say – shit to you.’

The boy smiled and nodded.  ‘Yes.’  _Shit to you_.  He smiled more broadly at her choice words.

‘I was wondering why …’  Viktoriya scrunched up her nose, which the boy often found she did when she was looking for a word.  Her accent was very good when she spoke English, but she often seemed to struggle for her vocabulary and her grammar was usually subpar.  ‘… why you ignore the professors sometime?’

‘Oh.’  The boy’s smile faded and he wetted his lips before answering.  ‘No one ever calls me by my first name at home.  I don’t know my real last name so the lady who took me in told Durmstrang that my last name was Ivanski – that was her maiden name.  I’m not used to being called by that name yet.’

‘So now you are Ivan ... Ivanski ... yes?’ observed Viktoriya.  ‘That is sad, not having surname.  You like Durmstrang?’

The boy shrugged.  ‘It’s all right.’  He slowed down as they reached the doors to the dining hall.

‘Enjoy dinner,’ said Viktoriya as she walked towards the end of the first-year table.  She had three or four friends she was usually surrounded by and they sat at the far end of the table each meal.  Her friends were from other houses, not just theirs.

The boy wondered how the houses were sorted.  Everyone in his house seemed to have different personalities.  Some were quiet, some intelligent.  Some were unruly, others were loud.  After he noticed the differences, the boy wondered if that wasn’t the point – so that the houses were even.  When they first arrived by ship and signed their names with the enchanted quill, their names all coming out a different colour according to what house the quill was going to put them in: orange, red, silver, and blue.   His name came out red.  

‘Hey, Ivan, why’re you just standing there?’ a black-haired boy called out from the middle of the table.  His name was Louis and he was British, the only Brit in their whole year.  Louis had told him usually there were a handful of students from the United Kingdom, since there was an admissions process at Durmstrang and a lot of parents found this to be a much more suitable way to admit students into a school.  According to Louis, anyway.

The boy went to the table and sat down.  Louis passed him a platter of turkey and fell into an easy conversation about the school Quidditch team and whether the Headmaster was going to lift the rule restricting first-years from trying out for it.  The boy listened, knowing nothing of Quidditch, and only shrugged when Sven, the largest boy in their year, asked him what he thought. 

By June, the boy had become so fully immersed in the magical culture, one would never have suspected he’d never learnt anything usual about the magical world until he was seven and only then it was history and government, nothing of games or sports.

He didn’t quite have _friends_ , but it wasn’t unusual for him to be seen in the presence of Louis and Sven.  Normally the other two boys would have to drag him out of the library and out into the sun or down to the wizard town a mile or so away.  The students of Durmstrang were allowed a lot of freedom on the weekends and curfew was set much later.  They were encouraged to check out books on Dark spells, although the practise of such  magic was forbidden on other students.  Potions classes were conducted on the second floor and since so many concoctions called for tail of rat, there was a stash of them the students were allowed to take to use for practise.

In the beginning of the year, the boy had wanted to take one, to use one of the new Dark spells he’d read about, but he never did.  Louis and Sven seemed completely disinterested in such magic.  Fourth-years were allowed to choose two electives, one of which was the Dark Arts.  Louis and Sven supposed they would take that class when the time came, but otherwise, why bother?  There were other things to do.  Like sneak out at night to the kitchens and eat chocolate cake or blackberry pie.  Or check out the books on witches’ anatomy from the library and go outside and point and laugh at the moving pictures.

Since his friends weren’t interested in practising spells on rats, the boy refrained from doing it.  Homework stacked up anyway and keeping track of when everything was due was time-consuming enough.  After a couple months, the boy didn’t give much thought to animals or the things he did to them at his grandmother’s home.

Once in a while he’d wake up, sweating, his heartbeat erratic, just having had a dream about the things he used to do to the animals.  It wasn’t out of guilt or disgust that his heart raced and his body felt on the verge of a panic attack.  No, it was because he knew what Louis and Sven might say and he was more concerned about being normal and having friends and somehow just having _dreams_ seemed like enough to expose the boy’s secret.  Deep down he knew that no one knew what he dreamt about and they’d never find out.

Second and third year were much like the first.  Lots of homework and sneaking to the kitchens for food.  Viktoriya asked him for help with her homework a few times and he gladly sat down with her to review.

It was obvious how even though he had friends, he wasn’t very close to anyone.  Sven and Louis would come back with stories of their adventures _together_ during the summers.  They never invited the boy to come along with them.

‘You should’ve been there, Ives,’ they’d tell him each time.  

It was just as well.  He didn’t want to have to explain to them about his grandmother and how she would never agree to let him go off to England or Sweden for a fortnight.

At the end of third year, the boy noticed Louis began to pass notes to Viktoriya during their classes.  She’d blush and sometimes giggle while quickly scribbling back a reply.  Louis had an annoying habit of winking at her, smiling out of the side of his mouth.  

‘We’re fourteen, Ives.  You should find yourself a girlfriend,’ Louis said one night towards the end of the term, whipping out a pack of wizard cigarettes from his trunk.

The boy shrugged.  ‘I don’t know any girls,’ he said, hoping he didn’t sound as disgruntled as he felt.  The jealousy oozed out of his skin and felt alive inside him.  He wanted to punch Louis’ completely symmetrical face in.  And he might’ve if Sven hadn’t already been six-foot-nothing by the end of third year.  

The urge to hurt Louis dissipated somewhat when he overheard the black-haired boy talking to Viktoriya one night in their common room.

‘You have very nice friends,’ she said.  ‘Sven is being very ... tall.’

Louis laughed and played with the ends of her hair.  ‘Very tall, yes.’

‘Ivan is – how you say – weird.’

‘He’s quiet.  Nothing weird about that.  Reads a lot.  Ives is a decent bloke.’

‘Bloke?  Is “blokes” not what you play with as child?’

Louis laughed.  ‘Those are _blocks_.  A bloke is a guy – a man.’

‘Oh.’  And Viktoriya blushed.  

The boy turned and went back up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.  Louis had stuck up for him, which was something the boy never expected anyone to do for him.  Still, he knew the sounds he heard as he retreated up the stairs were of Louis kissing Viktoriya.  

She was easily the prettiest girl in their year, if not the entire school.  She seemed very aware of this fact and played on it.  Smiling at the closest boy when she dropped something she didn’t want to pick up.  All the wizards were eager to do her bidding.  She was nice about it, though, never cruel to those she was disinterested in and would turn them down with a smile and a small pat on their cheeks.  The boy had seen his fellow third-years and even a handful of fourth- and fifth-years not wash their cheeks for weeks.

He wanted her to like him.  He wanted her to pat his cheek as he leant in to kiss him.  So far the only _bloke_ he’d seen her kiss was Louis.  It seemed unfair to do anything to Louis personally since he had stuck up for him, called him decent, told Viktoriya that he wasn’t weird after all.  But Viktoriya was fair game.

Since his arrival at Durmstrang, he’d only practised Legilimency a few times.  Normally it was on a professor as he watched him grade a quiz or exam that he hadn’t studied for, making them think _O_ instead of _E_ , _Correct_ instead of _X_.  This time he was going to try it on a fellow student, Viktoriya, and make her think she didn’t fancy Louis.

This part of Legilimency was hard.  He’d read all about the art in the library, but nowhere did it say anything about mind influence.  Either no one wrote about it or the boy was the first to ever do it – he didn’t know which was correct.

Changing someone’s mind was easy when it was something small.  All he had to do was subtly say  while in their heads what he wanted – _Correct ... correct ... answer is correct ..._

Changing someone’s _feelings_ on the other hand was something the boy had never really tried.  He wondered if fourteen-year-old Viktoriya would notice when someone was in her head.  With the professors, he was only in for a few seconds.  It would take much longer with Viktoriya.

There were only three weeks left of the term before summer holiday.  The boy wasn’t sure if this would be enough time, but he had to try.  He slipped into her head during Potions and Duelling.  It was hard.  She was so often thinking of things such as school or her summer holidays that it was difficult to change the subject of her thoughts to Louis.  Once he managed to get her to think of the other boy, it became easier and easier to start sending his own thoughts into her head.

He wasn’t sure it was working at all; Louis and Viktoriya continued to sit together at classes or in the common room at night.  

At the very end of the term, when the ship docked and students went to meet their parents, the boy lingered on ship, fiddling with the lock of his trunk.

‘My mum said you could come visit during the holiday,’ Louis said.  ‘You’ve never been to England; I’d bet you’d like it.’

‘Oh ... that is very nice, but I am thinking I stay in Bulgaria.  I have not been seeing my parents since Christmas.’

‘I’ll write to you.  Will you write back?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ 

The boy noticed Viktoriya was looking everywhere but at Louis.

‘I have long plans for summer.  I am being very busy the next two months.  Will you not hate me if I forget, no?’

Louis shook his head.  ‘I won’t hate you, no.’

‘Good.  I say good-bye now.  See you in September.’

The boy stood up and dragged his trunk towards Louis.  ‘Have a good summer, then,’ he said.

Louis looked at him straight in the eye; they were the same height.  ‘Did you overhear that?’

The boy shrugged.  ‘Not intentionally,’ he lied.

‘I dunno what happened.  She wouldn’t leave me alone for _weeks_ and then suddenly she’s too busy.’

‘Two months is a long time to be apart, I suppose.’

‘It’s not really a long time and it didn’t _have_ to be two months.  She could’ve come visit me.’

‘I suppose I’m used to not seeing anyone during summer holidays.  It seems like a very long time indeed.’

Louis opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it.  He opened it again a few seconds later.  ‘You always say the lady who you live with would never spend the money to let you travel anywhere.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Or I would’ve invited you to come.’

The boy shrugged.  ‘You have Sven and that other kid.’

‘Walter.’

‘Sure.’

‘What if my mum wrote her, that lady you live with?  Would she let you come if we paid for it?’

‘I doubt it,’ said the boy.  Louis looked so uncharacteristically forlorn that the boy retracted.  ‘Well, maybe, I don’t know.’

‘Would you come?’

‘Sure, I guess,’ answered the boy, not sure if he really cared either way.  

‘Good.  Great!’

The boy resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.  He wasn’t caught up in friendships and things as the other witches and wizards in his year were, but he had to admit to himself that someone wanting to see him outside of Durmstrang was nice.  It made him feel good.

‘Yeah, well, don’t count on it too much.  Mrs Chernova is completely mad.  She doesn’t have an ounce of nice in her bones.  Though she might be willing to get rid of me a few weeks early, if you asked for me to come in August.  Anyway, she’s probably down there waiting for me and about to hex me if I don’t come soon, so I’ll see you.’

‘Owl me,’ said Louis.

‘Yeah, okay,’ replied the boy.  ‘See you, Lou.  Oh – and see you, too, Sven,’ he added as Sven walked over, carrying his trunk.

As the boy left the ship, he heard his schoolmates call behind him, ‘Have a good summer, Ives!’

XXXXXXX

That summer, the boy spent most of it in the Chernova library, reading about the Dark Arts, something he still shied away from while at school.  Mostly he read about Legilimency in those books, hoping his grandmother perhaps owned a copy that had more information than the library at Durmstrang.  He was disappointed that none of her books contained the information that he wanted.  

The thought crossed his mind to ask her about Legilimency and changing people’s minds, but he didn’t want to incriminate himself.  There was the topic of _influencing_ someone’s thoughts, but that was hardly helpful.  All that did was try to explain how to make someone think about the memory one want them to think about so that one might see it and know the truth.  The boy was well beyond that step.

One morning in the middle of July, a banging on his door woke the boy up.  He shuffled across the floor in a barely-awake haze and opened the door.  Mrs Chernova stood on the other side, a tattered envelope in her hand.  

‘I assume this is for you, _Ivan_?’

‘Oh.  Probably.’  The boy reached for the letter, but Mrs Chernova held it back.

‘One of your schoolmates had his mother write to me.  She asked if I would allow you to visit during August and they would take you to school in September.’

The boy held his breath, waiting for her response.

‘She offered to pay your way.’

The boy stopped breathing at the lengthened pause.

‘I seem to think she got the idea that I am poor and cannot afford to pay for your travel.  Shall I reply and tell her that I do not pay for bastard sons of whores to travel to England.  Have I not told you that nothing good comes from England?’

‘I didn’t know he was going to write,’ said the boy lamely, lying through his teeth.  He wondered if he could change his grandmother’s mind about letting him go to England.  His eyes looked at her, unblinking.

‘Do _not_ try that head stuff with me, boy!  I can feel when someone is trying to get into my mind!’

The feigned innocence.  ‘What?’

‘I think you ought to stay here until the time to board the ship for the new term.’

The boy didn’t have anything to say.  He simply nodded and sighed.  Mrs Chernova finally offered the letter to him and he took it, tearing it open to read as he closed his bedroom door.

_Ives –_

_My mum is writing to that old hag you live with.  Sven’s coming on 17 August._

_I wrote to Tori and asked if she wanted to visit she could, but I haven’t heard back._

_I’m not really expecting to._

_If you can’t make it, we understand and we’ll see you in September._

_Otherwise, perhaps we’ll see you at the train station in_ _London_ _._

_Either way, have a good rest of summer holiday._

_\- Lou._

The boy crumpled up the letter and tossed it across the room, completely missing the rubbish bin.  He flopped down on his bed and grumbled to himself, annoyed with his life, infuriated with his grandmother.  If Viktoriya was going to visit Louis, that meant whatever influence he had on her thoughts had worn off.  What shit.  He wanted to go to England more than ever now so he could continue his Legilimency with her, get her to leave Louis alone once and for all.

Louis was the best friend he had, he supposed, but they were fourteen and a half.  No one in the lower years dated anyone more than a month or two before breaking things off.  Louis was a good-looking wizard.  He’d find another girl more quickly than the boy ever could hope to.  

Just as long as that girl was not Viktoriya.

Mmm.  Viktoriya.  Her English was atrocious, but she was beautiful.  Thinking about her made the boy feel a strange tickling feeling around his groin.  He lifted his hips off the bed slightly so he could pull his pyjama bottoms down just enough to free his cock, still flaccid.

He began the normal pull, release motions with his fingers as he thought of Viktoriya and what she must look like without any clothes on, completely bare and exposed.

When he was at school, he hardly ever masturbated.  Maybe once a week.  It was too easy to hear what was going on and even with a Silencing Charm around his bed, the boy didn’t trust one of the other boys not to open up his curtains to ask him something about the homework or to see if he wanted to go to the kitchens.  So that left the showers, but only when he was the last one in his room to need to bathe.  That was tricky, trying to figure out who was going to take a shower before bed or whether they were going to wake up early before breakfast and do it.  

Since he’d been home, the boy masturbated – _wanked_ , as Louis called it – nearly every day.  It was something he discovered on accident towards the very end of the previous summer when he was still thirteen.  He woke up erect, as he often did these days, and had to use the bathroom something fierce.  Trying to manoeuvre himself over the toilet to urinate proved problematic so he tried to bend it, ever so slightly. 

_OUCH!_

No, that was definitely not the winning idea.

Instead, the boy tried rubbing it, as he often did when his muscles tightened in his legs to get them to relax.  As he rubbed it, he realised ... this was good.  Very good.  And within less than a minute he’d splattered thick, white liquid all over the toilet.  

The whole thing was rather messy so the boy told himself he would never do it again.  Two weeks and fourteen wanks later, he told himself he would stop by his fourteenth birthday.  It was just a phase.  Something he’d grow out of.  It was a year later and he was still doing it and he didn’t care how messy it was (that’s what showers and _Scourgify_ charms were for).

This time, he had his eyes closed, thinking about what Viktoriya would look like touching herself, rubbing those secret places kept hidden by the uniform, but could easily open up like they did in the moving anatomy books from the library.  Those places seemed gross when he was eleven, but were fascinating now that he was fourteen.

‘Mmm,’ he moaned to himself.  Ah, now it was no longer his hands on his cock, but Viktoriya’s and she knew exactly how to place him fully in her hand and squeeze just enough and pull just right.

‘Mmmaaoohffff,’ he sputtered as he came all over his hand, dripping onto his thighs.

‘ _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_ ’ came a loud scream.

The boy opened his eyes; his grandmother stood in his doorway, holding another envelope in her hand.  He was torn between anger and humiliation.  In the end, he kept his eyes on hers, as though daring her to say something.  This was his room, one of the very few places she permitted him to go in the house and what he was doing – had just done – was natural.  All the boys his age and older did it.

‘YOU FILTHY BASTARD!  HOW DARE YOU DO THAT IN MY HOUSE!  YOU DIRTIED MY SHEETS!  ONLY SHIRTLIFTERS DO THAT!  TAKE THAT UNNATURALNESS OUT OF MY HOUSE!’

The boy was too stunned to move.  His grandmother had become upset and angry at him in the past, but nothing like this.  She seemed on the brink of actual insanity.  

Then, she was lifting her wand and pointing it around the room, casting books off shelves, breaking furniture in half, sending his entire room into disarray.  Then, she pointed her wand at him, and a flash of blue light flew towards him, Vanishing all the ejaculation before circling around his cock before and diving through the opening at the tip and disappearing.  The boy was terrified.  He waited for pain or to break out in spots, but nothing happened.  His heartbeat returned to normal as he stared down at himself, back to his normal, floppy state.

‘What did you do to me?’ he whispered.

Mrs Chernova didn’t answer.  ‘I want you OUT OF MY HOUSE!  I am putting you on the train to England.  You BELONG IN ENGLAND!  You can stay at school for the holidays and find someplace to go next summer.  I WANT YOUR PERVERTED SELF AWAY FROM MY HOUSE!  YOU HAVE INFECTED THIS HOUSE LONG ENOUGH!’

The door slammed shut and the boy sat on his bed, scared to move in case sudden movement might cause parts of him to fall off or become engorged.  When ten minutes passed and nothing happened, the boy slowly moved off his bed and began to clean up his room, gathering his things to pack into his trunk.  It was just mid-July.  He wondered if Mrs Chernova was going to send him to Louis’ house now or if she would wait until his mother had asked for him, in August.  Either way, the boy thought he should be prepared.

XXXXXXX

‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ Louis said as the boy got off the train in London, dragging his trunk behind him.

‘This business of not being able to do magic until I’m seventeen is nonsense.’

‘Sorry ‘bout that.  Mum’s waiting in the car park for us.’

The boy nodded.  He wondered if Viktoriya had decided to come to London or if she stayed back in Bulgaria.  If she was here, the boy would undoubtedly have to change her mind about how much she liked England.  He walked with Louis in silence towards passed rows and rows of cars in the car park.  

‘Why’d she let you come?  The old hag?’

The boy snorted.  ‘I think she got tired of me being around all the time.’

‘What’s it like living there?’

‘Crap.’

‘Thought so.  Viktoriya didn’t come.’

‘Oh.  That’s too bad.’  The boy should win an award at being the world’s best liar.  ‘I bet she wanted to, but her parents wouldn’t let her.’

Louis shrugged.  ‘It’s not like I was gonna marry her or something, but _damn_ , Ives, she’s so beautiful.  It’s completely maddening how beautiful she is.’

‘She’s all right.  There’s girls prettier than her.’

‘Here’s the car.’

The boy spent most of the rest of the summer trying to convince Louis that Viktoriya wasn’t anything special and he should get over her.  Sven tried to help, but after a few days he simply punched Louis in the stomach and told him the next time he heared Viktoriya’s name he was going to punch him in the face.  Louis shut up about her – at least around Sven. 

Having friends was the craziest thing the boy ever experienced.  At school he had to be careful about his inclinations and his fascination with certain Dark magic because Sven and Louis were so disinterested in that type of magic that it would surely be apparent to them if their friend began reading books about it in their presence.  Everything the boy did here was observed by someone.  Durmstrang had more people, but most didn’t care what he did.  At Louis’ house the boy found that not only were Louis and Sven always around, watching him, but so were Louis’ parents as well as his brother and sister.

Louis’ brother was only eleven so the boy didn’t pay any attention to him.  Louis’ sister on the other hand was nearly sixteen and wore a lot of v-neck shirts that showed the slight swell of her breasts.  After over a week of being at Louis’ house and having his sister drive them around London in their Muggle car (which was charmed to fit in tight places and had anti-Muggle charms so that when they looked at the car, they suddenly smelled something so foul they ran away holding their noses) the boy thought if he didn’t take care of himself soon he might start losing brain cells.

He tried to be very quiet when he woke up that morning when he got into the shower.  The water was warm and felt good against his skin and he didn’t hesitate to grasp his cock and begin to stroke himself.  He was hard as stone and practically trembling.  But he couldn’t come.

‘ _Vat are you doing in there, Ives!_ ’ Sven yelled through the door, banging his fists against it.  ‘ _Some auf us haff to use the loo!_ _Stop vanking and hurry up!_ ’

The boy grumbled and turned off the water.  ‘I’m coming!  Christ, calm down!’  It took several minutes for the swelling to go down.  His balls ached and he was in a wretched mood for the rest of the day.

The next morning the boy tried again.  He tried to go fast, in case Sven wanted to interrupt him again, but he couldn’t come.  Everything seemed to be in working order.  He could get physically turned on and grow hard, but he just couldn’t come.

Memories of blue light curling around his cock flooded his head.

‘Oh my god,’ he whispered, letting go of himself and practically slipping in the shower.  ‘Oh my god.’

Was this his grandmother’s hex?  To make him do everything but come?  How was he ever supposed to orgasm if his body was unable to do so?  The boy was horrified.  And more enraged than he had ever been before.  He was going to have to find an anti-curse to this and quickly.

XXXXXXX

Mrs Chernova allowed the boy to come back to her house during the summers, but she avoided him completely and made him stay at Durmstrang during the Christmas holiday.  When he was home, he could never find her to force her to lift the curse on him and he hadn’t been able to find a way to fix the problem in any books at school.  

As the years passed, the boy grew more interested in girls and even more interested in sex.  He’d stopped trying to wank ages ago, knowing it didn’t do any good.  In fifth year, Louis finally found himself a girl – a fourth-year named Caroline who was also from London – and forgot all about Viktoriya.  Caroline was good for Louis, occupied a lot of his time, and they dated even after they all left Durmstrang.

With Louis off with Caroline and no longer obsessing over Viktoriya, it allowed the boy more time to focus on getting her to change her mind about liking _him_.  That, decidedly, took more Legilimency power than he had planned on because Viktoriya’s interests seemed to jump from boy to boy almost daily.

The boy realised that in fifth year, he and Viktoriya were close friends.  She sat with him in the common room and asked to study with him daily.  She sat with her own friends during meals, but sat next to him in at least one class a day.  By the time sixth year came about, the boy found her touching his arm, his leg, telling him she liked his hair as she ran her fingers through his hair.

He kissed her on Halloween that year.  It was obviously not her first kiss.  It wasn’t his either, but his kisses had always been the result of some drunken game during holidays when only a few students remained at school.  Spinning a bottle or daring each other to do something ridiculous that always ended up as dares to kiss someone else.

By the time Christmas rolled around they’d fooled around in his dormitory with the curtains closed or in the common room when everyone else had gone to bed.  She’d invited him up to her room a few times, but she had more roommates who were less inclined to let them have any private time.

Viktoriya announced she was going to stay for the Christmas holiday at school.  All the boys in the boy’s dormitory were going back home for the two and a half week break, which meant the boy and Viktoriya could have the room all to themselves.

They put the room to good use.  Before then, Viktoriya had let the boy take off most of her clothes, save her knickers.  He touched her everywhere with his hands and was probably more forceful than she would have liked, but he made satisfied grunting noises whenever he put his fingers inside her which seemed to turn her on.  

She commented how he was focused on her, made sure she came when she wanted to.  Whenever she turned to reciprocate, he denied, saying it wasn’t about him.  She might have thought it odd, and in fact, she probably did, but she smiled and thanked him and kissed him.

During the Christmas holidays he did everything else he’d ever wanted to do.  The last night they would ever be together, he whispered in her ear what to do.

‘ _Take off that shirt ... no, do it slower ..._ ’

‘ _Open up your knees ... touch yourself ... there ..._ ’

‘ _Lick your lips ... kiss me ..._ ’

He hadn’t been this hard in three years.  He was throbbing in pleasure, feeling the blood pulse.  Knowing he wouldn’t be able to come was not a deterrent from having sex.  Somehow he would have to fake it, or else just use the excuse of ‘stage fright’ instead.  Louis said the first time he had sex with Caroline, he wasn’t able to come at all.  If it could happen to Louis, the boy figured it could happen to him as well. 

Being inside Viktoriya was nice.  Probably more than nice, but as there weren’t any fireworks or big orchestral music, the boy felt something was missing.  He needed something more than this.  It wasn’t enough.

He reached his hand underneath Viktoriya and cupped her arse in his hand, pushing her up, forcing her to rock her hips against him.  That new friction made things better.  She seemed to understand what he wanted because she continued to move her hips when he removed his hands.  

When he was younger and still abusing the animals around the Chernova mansion, the boy liked the way it felt to feel how the animals struggled, tried to escape, squirmed when he touched them.  He wanted to feel that struggle now. 

The boy took VIktoriya’s hands and placed them above her head, holding them there with one of his.  She looked confused, but didn’t say anything as he placed his other hand underneath her head, cradling her at the nape of her neck.   He moved her head, first to the left to kiss her neck, then to the right to kiss her cheek, and finally up to kiss her mouth.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, trying to free her hands.

‘Nothing,’ the boy replied.

‘Let go.’

The boy continued to thrust into her.

‘ _Let go_.’

The boy tried to kiss her.

‘ _STOP!_ ’

Viktoriya yelled so loudly the boy was afraid someone might come into the sixth-year boys’ dormitory to see what was going on.  He let go of her hands and pulled out of her body.  Flopping over on his back, he closed his eyes and breathed in and out, slowly and deeply.

‘I’m sorry,’ Viktoriya whispered.  ‘I didn’t mean ... you were – oh, crap – er, caught up in the ... moment, yes?’

‘Yes,’ the boy responded.

‘I didn’t mean ... let me help you, okay?’

‘No, don’t—’

But Viktoriya’s hands were already on him, stroking him up and down.  She smiled at him and kissed his collar bone before breathing into his ear.

‘I want make you come this time.’

‘You don’t have to,’ said the boy.  He wanted to protest more, but her hands did feel very good.

He meant to stop her after a while, to tell her that he was just nervous, to use what happened to Louis as his own excuse, but her hands felt good and nothing had felt this good in such a long time.  It must have been several minutes – perhaps as long as ten – because Viktoriya huffed and stopped her stroking.

‘Is something wrong with you?’ she asked.  ‘Why you not come?’

The boy shrugged.  He paused for a moment, to say what he wanted to say inside his head, to get his excuse to sound plausible, but then he heard it.  The laughter.

Viktoriya’s face was scrunched up as she giggled.  ‘Hehehehe,’ she giggled.  ‘I not heard of boy who cannot come before.  Hehehehe.’

‘Shut up,’ snarled the boy.

Soon her giggled turned into laughter.  

‘You have problem?  Hahahahaha!’

‘I said, _shut up!_ ’

‘Hahahahaha.’  Viktoriya took in a deep breath  ‘Hahahaha.  My eyes cry.’

The boy growled low in his throat and turned over, rolling on top of Viktoriya.  Her laughter ceased immediately as he held her down, his hands clamped down on her wrists and his knees on either side of her thighs, pressing her legs together.  Her mouth was opened in a perfect _O_ , but no sound came out.

It took less than five seconds for him to be inside her head.  He brought forth the memory of them fucking and right at the point were she began to yell _stop_ , he changed it.  He made it so that before she yelled, he covered her mouth and continued to drive into her, hard and fast and deep.  He made it so that she hurt, so that she couldn’t make it stop.  He made it so that she was full of fear, fear so palpable he could feel it soaking into his skin.  He made it so that when he removed his hand from his mouth, he lifted her leg up, giving him new angle so that he could push into her deeper.

It was as though he could actually feel her body again, surrounding his cock.  Everything felt real, tangible.  And soon the boy was coming, as though an explosion was being pulled from his body.  

When he withdrew himself from Viktoriya’s mind, he glanced down at his body.  He was only half-hard, but there was no evidence to suggest he physically came.  Everything he felt was just as he remembered before his grandmother cursed him.  He was able to achieve orgasm, albeit only mentally.

‘You raped me,’ gasped Viktoriya.

‘I did not,’ said the boy, rolling away from her.  

‘How did you?  Impossible.  Legilimency cannot do – _what did you do to me_?’

The boy smiled.  What he had just done had never been done before.  Literally changing someone’s memories, making them think something else had happened.  Viktoriya trembled next to him.

‘If I can do that, imagine what else I can do,’ the boy threatened.  ‘So you better keep your mouth shut about this.’

‘Don’t ever touch me again.’

Viktoriya got up and scrambled around to get her clothes, tearing out of the boys’ room before she had even thrown her shirt on over her shoulders.

XXXXXXX

After that, it had been partly about the sexual gratification, but mostly about the power.  The boy was in control.  He could make the mind think whatever _he_ wanted it to think.  And best of all, he was right there, feeling it too.

He continued to torment Viktoriya, entering her mind whenever he felt like it, replaying bits and pieces of what happened over Christmas in her head.  She stopped eating.  Her roommates said she stopped sleeping.  Her eyes carried large black bags underneath and her skin grew pale.

Whenever the school Healer would force sleeping potion down her throat, he’d enter her dreams, creating entirely new scenarios he wanted to try.  

It didn’t take him long to realise that entering her dreams was more detrimental to Viktoriya’s physical health than entering her mind when she was awake.  He backed off, not wanting her to actually do something so drastic as kill herself, but he wanted to keep asserting the power over her.  She knew what he was capable of and would do anything to keep him from hurting her.

The power was amazing.  The power was an aphrodisiac like no potion could ever even hope to contain.

Almost as great as that power was that he would never get caught.  His professors, the Headmaster – no one knew what he was doing and no one would be able to prove it.  His skills were too far advanced, more than any of the adults in the school.  No one could top him; they couldn’t even come close.  He was better – _smarter_ – than they were.  The things he did weren’t even written about in books; they had never been done before.

After Christmas break of seventh year, Viktoriya didn’t return.  Rumours had it she had finally fallen into madness, her parents committing her to the hospital where patients who had become addled by magic went.  Even the boy had no idea what the truth was.  

Once he learned how to enter Viktoriya’s dreams, it was easy to try doing it to other girls.  He wondered briefly if Mrs Chernova hadn’t cursed him whether he’d be doing this – mentally raping witches.  It was a wonder that didn’t last long.

He left Durmstrang behind when he was eighteen.  He moved his things out of the Chernova mansion and went to England.  He’d stayed at the house for only a night, to do research in the library.  He got the books containing all the Chernova family history.  He looked at the family tree, noticing his lineage crossed one another.  Cousins married cousins.  Uncles marrying nieces. All to keep the pureblood line going.  It was disgusting, the incestuous behaviour of the family.  

It stood to reason, though.  The incest must have been the reason why his mother and grandmother seemed mentally unstable at times.  The boy swore to himself he’d never allow the same thing to happen to him.

He found a letter in the books that his mother must have tried to write to his father, explaining that she was pregnant.  It didn’t appear that she ever owled the letter, but his father’s name was on the envelope.  

Not wanting to be a part of this family any longer, the boy adopted his father’s last name when he moved to England.  He let a flat and moved his things in, having ‘convinced’ the landlord not to charge him money for the first few months.  He got a normal job and began a new life as a fully-legal wizard.

It didn’t take him long to choose a new girl.  The first one was pretty and a few trips inside her head told him she lived alone and was single.  She was the type of girl who would never go for him, but kept his hopes up by being impossibly nice.  She was the type of girl who would laugh at him if she ever found out he couldn’t physically come.  She was the type of girl who was perfect to invade.

It took months to wear her down before she slipped into a coma.  Dreams inside a coma, the boy found, were dreary and absent.  It was hard to do and, quite frankly, rather boring.  So he found a second witch.  And then a third.  And a fourth.

He had moved on to a girl named Cecilia, a witch who was bright and pretty and very successful – as all his victims were.  But something happened while he was still working on Cecilia:  he met a sixth witch, one who piqued his interest like none of the other witches had.

This new witch would prove tricky and difficult.  He could tell from observing her that she was hard-headed and stubborn, that she had many friends who cared about her.  She was never alone when he saw her, always talking to someone, sometimes about business, sometimes pleasure.

He knew he needed to finish up with Cecilia before turning to this new witch, but the prospect excited him.  She was the same in many ways, but when he started on her, she would be his very first redhead.

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

                                                         

XXXXXXX

**A/N:**   The purpose of this chapter wasn’t to write disturbing things for the sake of disturbing the reader.  It was to show how a sociopath comes to do the things he does (specifically the Legilimens of our story).  This is how Ronda (and I) envisioned the childhood of our criminal.  Hopefully now that you have read it, you can understand who this guy is and how he came to commit the crimes that he has.  It also shows what Ginny, Harry, and Draco are going to have to deal with.  

But don’t forget to review here!  Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter 9 : The Butterflies in Her Stomach

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Nine: The Butterflies in Her Stomach**

XXXXXXX

Cecilia had stripped all the linens off her mattress; they sat in a pile in the corner of her bedroom.  Her clock read 5:45AM, but time meant nothing to her anymore.  AM or PM?  It was all the same.  She’d used her wand to block all outside light from coming into her flat, but had all her magical lamps on and candles lit so she wouldn’t know when it was night and when she was supposed to be sleeping.

She shuffled into her bathroom and sat on the toilet.  A few minutes, or perhaps even an hour, later Cecilia realised she didn’t have to go.  She stood up and went to the sink, looking at the mirror above it.  The girl staring back certainly wasn’t – it couldn’t possibly – _was that her?_   She looked terrible, with the whites of her eyes almost completely blood-red and the skin underneath black with heavy bags that weighed down her lids, giving her the look of a very old, very worn hag.

Her fingers picked at her limp hair and she scratched at her scalp, dandruff falling onto her shoulders.

_A cold hand slid up her thigh and gripped her knickers_.

Cecilia shut her eyes and pressed her palms against her cheeks.  No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about her last dream.  It had been four days ago, or maybe five by now, and she hadn’t let herself fall asleep again.  This dream had been the worst.

_Hands taking hold of her shoulders ... uneven fingernails digging into her back ... arms pushing her back, shaking her as though a violent rage had possessed him, her head banging against the headboard as he shook her body ..._

Cecilia stumbled out of her bathroom and down the hallway towards her kitchen.  She tapped her wand against her Carlyle’s Celebrated Coffee Creation coffee maker, but nothing happened.  She tapped again and again and nearly screamed in frustration.  Then she noticed she was holding the tip of her wand in her palm.  She turned the wand around in her hand, holding it the correct way, and tapped again.  This time the coffee maker turned on and began brewing a pot just the way she liked it: STRONG.

_Fingers against her arse, squeezing ... a knee coming between her leg, forcing her thighs apart ... palms pressed against her hip, moving lower ... thumbs opening her up ... and then – then –_

‘GO AWAY!’ Cecilia screamed, her fingers clawing at her head, as though she could scratch the memory of her dreams out.  This last dream was the worst.  It went further than any of the other dreams could.  She didn’t know what it meant, but every night when she closed her eyes, he was there.  A man she didn’t recognise, whose face she could never see.  It was terrifying.  She vowed never to fall asleep again.

Cecilia took her coffee mug and sat at her kitchen table.  She sipped on the hot drink, hoping it would help keep her awake.  She’d felt drugged for the past several days; things looked blurry and her brain swam inside her head.  Two years ago when she’d had ten shots of Firewhisky on her birthday, she had felt a lot more sober than she did now.  Unfortunately, she knew she _was_ sober and what was happening to her was very real.

She tried to set her coffee cup down on the table, but she didn’t hear the usual ‘clink’ as the ceramic hit the wood.  Looking down, Cecilia noticed a stack of _Daily Prophets_.  There must’ve been seven or eight of them.  Her eyes glanced towards the sink; sure enough, her kitchen window was open just enough for the owl to fly in and drop off her paper.  

**SECRETS ABOUND AT THE MINISTRY:**

**A MENTAL RAPIST ON THE LOOSE**

The first headline made Cecilia’s blood run cold.  Was this for real?  It couldn’t possibly be ... how did they know?  She tried to concentrate on the article.  This was unbelievable.  She tossed that paper aside and flipped through another one.  In it, she read an ‘exclusive’ submitted by Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley.  Warning signs on sleep deprivation.  She had all those warning signs.  At the bottom of the exclusive read:

_If you or someone you know displays these warning signs, contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic in London immediately._

Cecilia swallowed.  Could the Ministry really stop her dreams?  She knew she had to get herself to the Ministry, but the fear of leaving her apartment was overwhelming.  She was fully aware that she _had_ to go before it was too late, before the dreams went too far.  She’d go to the Ministry today.  

No, tomorrow would be better.  

No.  Cecilia’s mind was made up:  by Monday, she’d go to the Ministry no later than Monday.  

XXXXXXX

One look at the large stack of parchment on her desk and Ginny could already feel the headache forming.  She had been far too lax with her regular job; all of her focus had been on this case with Harry.  Sitting down in her comfortable rolling-chair, Ginny grabbed the top parchment and scanned it.  Were all the other Healers in the hospital complete idiots?  She didn’t even have to finish reading the report to know exactly what the patient had been bitten by.  She wrote in bright red ink in the line next to _DIAGNOSIS_ and folded the parchment up like an airplane, tapped it with her wand and sent it soaring out of her office.

‘ _Hey_ , watch it!’

Ginny looked up.  The airplane had nearly flown right into Helena’s face.

‘Oh, sorry.  Look at all this,’ she said, waving her hand in front of the stack of parchment nearly two feet high.  

Helena sank down in one of the chairs opposite Ginny’s desk.  ‘It’s because you’re never here any more.  I’ve been so bored, you know.  I’ve taken to eating lunch with that Healer-in-Training, whatshisname.’

Ginny snorted.  ‘Poor you.’  She knew that whatshisname was a rather good-looking bloke, just what Helena would like.

Helena shrugged.  ‘So, been seeing a lot of Draco?’

Ginny coughed.  ‘What?’

‘I haven’t seen him much since I sucked him off in the loo.’

‘Ohh, shit, would you keep your voice down?  My door’s open.’

‘So what?’

‘So ... so ... just, you could lose your job if anyone found out what you’d been doing in the toilets.’

Helena shrugged again.  ‘That’s all right.  Say, when are you going to see him again?’

‘Don’t know.  I don’t see him every day.’

‘Nearly though, yeah?  Let me know the next time he’s here, all right?’  Helena stood up.  ‘I’ve got to work.  Or something.  I have a job, so I best do it if I want to keep it.’

‘Well, see you later.’

‘Lunch?’

‘Oh.  I said I would eat with Harry ...’

‘And discuss your top secret case?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Right.  The one isn’t so top secret anymore because _someone_ leaked the information to the press.’

‘Oh, it’d come out sooner or later and you know it.  Ta, ta.’  Helena left Ginny’s office.

It was just as well – Ginny wasn’t in the mood for Helena and she certainly wasn’t in any place to be distracted, not when she had a pile of work she needed to do.  The work was a good thing as well; it gave her a reason not to think about Draco.

Which of course was complete crap because she’d just now been reading the same parchment for the fourth time without a clue as to what it said.

For someone who lacked an actual personality, Mathias was the most amazing person she’d ever been in bed with.  Until Draco.  Perhaps it was because he hadn’t had sex in six years and therefore he worked hard at it, but Ginny couldn’t shake the notion that it was because he was actually great in bed.  Or that they were great in bed _together_.

It could never happen again.

She and Harry didn’t have many secrets from one another.  They’d dated and broken up before.  A couple of times.  They were great friends, but horrible at being in a relationship together.  Luckily, keeping her mouth shut about Draco wouldn’t be difficult.  She and Harry never discussed who they were dating or sleeping with; it was a mutual agreement.  But not only that, Draco was a convicted killer.  He’d been sent to Azkaban for kidnapping and murder.  He was a Death Eater.  He had the Mark on his arm.  They had to retain a professional, businesslike relationship.  This one-night stand could not interfere with this case.  

Therefore it could never happen again.

Telling Draco would be easy enough.  After he performed Legilimency on one of the witches, Ginny always made him lie down and rest.  She would talk to him then.  She didn’t want him to think it was bad sex, because it wasn’t, but it also wasn’t a big deal.  Draco was a person just like anybody else, and everyone has a need for sex.  Right?  No big deal.  They were both human, both prone to instincts.  Hermione had once told her about how people are attracted to one another because of smells.  Perhaps Draco’s pheromones were particularly strong.  

Mistakes happened.  Not that what happened with Draco was a mistake per say.  Having some of the greatest sex wizardkind had probably _ever_ seen could hardly be construed as a mistake.  However, having it with Draco wasn’t exactly the most brilliant idea Ginny had ever had.  The problems it would cause if Harry ever found out – or Ron.  Hermione!  Draco had been particularly horrible to Hermione while they were all students at Hogwarts.  What would she say?

It definitely could never happen again.

He wasn’t even good-looking.  Well, perhaps he was mildly good-looking, if one happened to find the gaunt, hollow look in their mate’s eyes, the look of skin stretched over newly-acquired fat, or pale skin covering extremely pointed features attractive.  Draco didn’t look as bad as he had for a while.  Now that he was actually eating, the gaps between his ribs were filling in, his stomach no longer concave.  His skin had gone from greenish-grey to a lighter shade of porcelain.  All in all, he was looking much better.  He’d cut his hair so he looked like a presentable human being now, but his eyes still carried around a slightly vacant expression, similar to what Ginny remembered seeing when she looked into Sirius Black’s eyes back at Grimmauld Place.  The look in Draco’s eyes was not nearly as frightening.  Azkaban wasn’t run by Dementors any longer, but there was still seclusion and, Ginny suspected, some form of abuse.  Nothing could compare to the feel of being surrounded by Dementors, but there must be some reason why Draco’s eyes looked the way they did.

When they were together last night, Ginny didn’t pay attention to his eyes.  She was paying attention to other, more prominent features of Draco.  Prominent things that were hard and were making her palms and temples break out in a sweat _right now_ just thinking about it.

She tapped another folded parchment and sent it flying through the air.  

‘Knock, knock.’

Ginny knew that voice.  ‘Hello, Harry,’ she said without even looking up.  ‘What’d you need?’

‘Just wanted to see how you were doing.  You didn’t really seem yourself at breakfast.’

Ginny snorted.  ‘Right.  Hold on.’  She finished scribbling at the next parchment and tapping it with her wand.  ‘I was just tired at breakfast.  Where’s Draco?’  

This morning Ginny dressed and waited by the fireplace to Floo straight to Harry’s flat.  The monthly rates to have one’s fireplace hooked up to the Floo Network had been on a steady incline since the fall of Voldemort.  Everyone was now ready to have their fireplaces hooked back up, but Ginny didn’t like paying full price for her Floo License (which was a novelty in and of itself; there had never been a fee for it before) so she only had the basics – people could Floo their heads and she could Floo out.  No one could come into her flat, however.

She told Draco to follow her through the fireplace and after that the two of them were in the company of Harry.  She supposed she was rather quiet while they ate and excused herself early to come to St Mungo’s.  It was a good thing; she hadn’t realised how much work she hadn’t done in the past few days.

‘Oh, Malfoy’s sitting outside like a good ferret.  You were only tired this morning?  How come?’

‘I don’t know,’ lied Ginny.

‘Yes, you do.  You usually sleep well.  I know the case has been getting to you and you haven’t slept much, but I dropped Malfoy off kind of early last night.  What happened?’

Ginny leaned back in her chair, placing her folded hands in her lap.  ‘Well, I stayed up late drinking rum and having amazing sex with Draco and letting him get me off.  Then I couldn’t sleep so I took a shower and then drank more rum until I fell asleep.’

Harry narrowed his eyes.  ‘Sex with Draco?’

‘No, _amazing_ sex with Draco.  You’re not listening.’

‘Amazing.’

‘Yes.’

‘Really.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Ginny, you know you’re my best friend and so I don’t like hurting your feelings, but your sense of humour is fucked up.’

‘Sorry.  I thought you’d appreciate the truth.’

‘So, just trouble sleeping, then?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Pretty much.  I think I was overly aware that Draco was in my flat, so your date had better have been good.’

‘It was all right.’

‘Relieve any of that stress you’ve been having?’

Harry shook his head.  ‘No.  Well, yes, but not in the way you think.’

‘Are you going to see her again?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Does this mean more nights with Draco?’

Harry smiled sheepishly.  ‘If you don’t mind.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ said Ginny with a sigh.  ‘Perhaps just dinners ... matinees on the weekends, whatever it is you weird Muggles do.  But this overnight thing ...’

‘Weird Muggles?’

Ginny smiled.  ‘Yeah.  You heard me, Potter.’

‘I cannot possibly be the weird one when you’re mouthing off “sex with _Malfoy_.”’

‘ _Amazing_ sex,’ corrected Ginny.  ‘You’re still not listening.’

Harry’s body shook as though something creepy-crawly had just scampered across his back.

‘Is my having sex really that disgusting?’

‘No, it’s Malfoy-sex that’s disgusting.  Anyway.  I had a point for coming to see you, other than just wanting to be in your company, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘There’s – well, there’s not really a good way to say this.’  Harry paused for nearly a minute.

‘Actually _saying_ it might help.’

‘Right, right.  You know that article?’

Ginny struggled not to roll her eyes.  She wasn’t in the mood for games today.  ‘Ambiguity is not attractive on you.’

‘The article in the _Daily Prophet_ about this dream stuff.  In the end, about six-hundred people showed up to the Ministry.  Most of the junior Aurors interviewed them and any who seemed valid were sent up the chain.  This morning, Tonks and I talked to about twenty of them who might be legit.’

‘Twenty?’

‘Yes.’

‘As in, twice ten?’

‘Yes, good on you, you know your times tables.’

Ginny covered her face with her hands.  ‘Twenty?’ she muttered between her fingers.

‘Yeah.’

‘So, what d’you need me to do about it?’

‘How many of them do you think Malfoy can do his Legilimency thing on in one day?’

‘Oh, Merlin, Harry, I don’t know.  Maybe two or three.  Depends on how long he has to do it for.  Maybe more than that if they’re all fakes.’

Harry nodded.  ‘Right.  Can you set it up?  Get the potions and beds needed and we can set it up for Malfoy to start tomorrow.  I’ll bring in the first five girls then for him to look at.’

‘All right.’  

‘So ... I saw Helena in the hallway.  You’re not talking to her about the case, are you?’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘Absolutely not.  She’s rather hacked off that I’ve been ignoring her.’

‘Good.  Keep annoying her.  We can’t have her telling anything else to the media.’

‘My lips are sealed.’

The way Harry lingered in the chair, rubbing his lips together, made Ginny think the conversation was far from over.

‘ _What_?’ she snapped.

‘I was sort of hoping that tonight—’

‘No.  Definitively no.’

Harry sighed.  ‘It was worth a shot.  When can you baby-sit again?’

‘I don’t know.  Not for a few days.  I need to catch up on my sleep.  Perhaps after Guillaume’s party this weekend.’  Ginny’s eyes widened and Harry groaned.  Neither of them had realised that they had both agreed to go to Bill and Fleur’s son’s birthday party until just that moment.  What the hell were they supposed to do with Draco?

‘I’ll skip,’ grumbled Harry.  ‘He’s your nephew.’

‘He’s yours too, don’t be stupid,’ said Ginny.  ‘We’ll simply – we’ll take Draco with us.’

‘No, we can’t.’  Harry shook his head.  ‘Your family doesn’t know he’s back, do they?  No.  He’ll ruin everything.’

‘He won’t,’ said Ginny.  ‘He’ll be good.  I’ll hex his mouth shut if I have to, but Mum would go spare if one of us missed it.  We haven’t all been home for dinner in, what, a year?’

‘Last Christmas—’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘No, George wasn’t there.  He was with his girlfriend’s family.  Ron and Hermione were only there for Christmas dinner, not the whole day like we were.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘If you don’t go there won’t be anyone to help buffer me and Mum – and you know how she’s been on my back lately.  And if I don’t go I’ll have to stay with Draco and I cannot _deal_ with him right now.’

Harry nodded and swept a hand through his hair.  ‘Yeah, I understand.  So she’s still on your back, then?’

‘All the time.  She wants me to get married or at least find a boyfriend.  She’s convinced we should get married ... I don’t think she approves of the single life, but she and Dad were married right after Hogwarts – they were teenagers!  I don’t want that life.  Not yet.’

Harry offered her a small smile.  ‘She’ll get over it.  You’ll find someone to marry and she’ll stop pestering you.’

‘What if ... what if I don’t want to get married?’

‘Are you kidding?’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘I don’t know what I want.  Are _you_ ever going to get married?’

Harry laughed uneasily.  ‘I don’t think I can.  I think I’m too fucked up.  I take affection, but I don’t really know how to offer it back.  That’s where we went wrong, wasn’t it?  I wanted it, but I didn’t know how to give it back – love and all that rot.’

‘Rot, right.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

Ginny held up her hands.  ‘I know what you meant.  It’s all right.  I’ll try to get those beds together and everything.  Are you going to want Draco to perform the Legilimency while they’re still conscious?’

‘Whatever would be easiest.’

‘I think I’ll give them a Sleep Draught,’ said Ginny.  ‘That way they can’t put up resistance when Draco has to, y’know.’

‘Brilliant.  Thanks, Gin, I know this has been really stressful for you, doing two jobs at once.’  Harry stood.  ‘Why don’t you come by the Ministry around two and we’ll make our lunch a late one and I’ll fill you in on the twenty girls we need Malfoy to look at.  I’ll have Tonks come as well.  She’s got Prof – er, Remus – to organise everything for us.  There’s so much bullshit we’ve had to deal with and so much information.  Plus, Hermione’s talked to someone from the university she went to and they’re helping her with a profile.  She told them she was working on a thesis and so ...’  Harry shrugged.  ‘She said the profile’ll be ready by the weekend.  She’ll give it to us at The Burrow.’

‘That’s great.  That’ll be really, really helpful.  I’ll meet you in the Atrium, then?’

Harry nodded.  ‘Sounds good.  Bye, Gin.’

XXXXXXX

When Ginny got to the Atrium, Harry was nowhere to be found.  Figuring he was probably running late, Ginny stood in line to have her wand checked, mumbled a thanks to the wizard behind the desk, and went to wait in the queue near the lifts.

‘Ginny!’

_AAARRRRRRRG!_ Ginny screamed in her head, recognising the voice instantly.  She turned slowly and forced herself to smile.

‘Hi, Mathias.’

Mathias smoothed his blonde hair back with one hand.  ‘I’ve been meaning to owl you, but I had this idea for better intra-Ministry memos—’

‘Is that your job here?’ asked Ginny.  

‘Memos?  No, of course not!  No, my job is Inter-Department Relations.’

‘Oh my God,’ muttered Ginny, gazing over at the long queue for the lifts.  _Where is Harry?  God, what I wouldn’t do to see_ Draco _right about now_.

‘Anyhow, like I said, I’ve been busy.  I thought perhaps you might have tried to owl me—’

‘I couldn’t have done, could I?’ snapped Ginny.  ‘I’ve been busy on this case.  It’s been in the _Prophet_ for days and days.  Surely you’ve read it?  It’s completely taken over my life.’

‘You couldn’t spare a moment for lunch?  What about today?  You’re not working on the case right now, are you?’

‘Actually, I’m supposed to be meeting some ... for lunch .. and yes – yes – that’s Tonks,’ said Ginny, breathing a sigh of relief.  ‘I’m very sorry, Mathias, but I really must be off.’

Running off towards Tonks, whose hair was surprisingly brown, although still spiked, Ginny gave her a huge grin.

‘Thank God.  You’re saving me from the most boring wizard alive.’

Tonks smirked and looked over Ginny’s shoulder.  ‘Who?  Surely not that bloke near the wand check—’

‘No, no, the Inter-Department Relations bloke.’

‘Mathias Brown?  That guy could put _Remus_ to sleep and you know how nothing seems to bore that man.’

Ginny smiled and nodded.  ‘Yes, yes.  He is _dull_.  Er, Mathias, not Remus.’

‘Harry and Malfoy are at the restaurant.  They were arguing, as per usual, and so I sent them out of the office.  I can’t handle their – _whoops_!  Didn’t see that potted plant, there!  I can’t handle their bickering.’

Ginny followed Tonks out of the Ministry and towards the phone booth that would take them up to the London streets.

‘What were they rowing about this time?’

Tonks shrugged.  ‘Best I heard was Malfoy was a foul git for being alive, but at least he never tried to make someone bleed to death like Harry had.  Though, I haven’t an idea what they’re talking about.’

‘Oh, something back from our Hogwarts days.  Nearly ten years, it must be.  So, how are the kids doing?  Is Remus still working or ...?’

‘He’s still working a few days a week.  He likes taking care of the kids.  I can’t imagine why.  Dirty nappies and food flung on the walls.  He’s a rather brilliant man, though.  Took me forever to get him to agree to have one in the first place and now I suspect he wants ten of them.’

‘Oh, don’t let him talk to my mum, then.  She could convince _anyone_ to want a whole litter of sprog.’

‘A litter?  Now, Ginny, they’re _children_ , not _puppies_.’

They giggled their way through the Ministry and out onto the London streets.  They walked to the Muggle restaurant they’d often met for lunch at – Ginny, Harry, and Tonks, that is.  Once inside the small place, Ginny found Harry and Draco sitting at a booth, both unnaturally quiet.  Tonks slid into the seat next to Harry, leaving Ginny to sit beside Draco.  Being so close to him and smelling that distinctive Draco-smell made her stomach flutter unnaturally.  Her insides hadn’t been so knotted up in nervousness since the very beginning of her relationship with Harry.  

As Ginny sat, she left enough room between them so they did not touch, but not so much as to look suspicious.  If she moved her leg over _just so_ , then her thigh could touch his—

_STOP IT!_ Ginny thought.  She was going to tell Draco they could never have sex again, so she wasn’t allowed to think about touching him.  But, _ohh_ , that was _his_ knee knocking against _hers_.  Ohh ... ohh my ...

Ginny crossed her legs, effectively removing her knee from anywhere near Draco’s, and scanned the menu.  This was going to be a very long meal.  Ginny took a deep breath to steady herself, trying not to think about the way Draco had touched her and fucked her the night before, but doing a terrible job of it.  

However was she supposed to live through the next few days with him?  And even worse, how was she supposed to deal with him while they were all at The Burrow for Guillaume Weasley’s birthday party? 

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX

 


	10. Chapter 10 :The Moving Pictures

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Ten: The Moving Pictures**

XXXXXXX

Ginny couldn’t concentrate on the screen in front of her.  She hardly had any idea how she had managed to get here, surrounded by Muggles, with _Draco Malfoy_ of all people sitting to her left.  There was a smell of stale butter and muddy shoes in the air.  She could hear the sounds of people slurping the last drops of their fizzy drinks through straws or tearing open shiny wrappers that covered their sweets, and for some reason those things echoed in her ears, drowning out the film.  Her eyes picked up bits of the film: vast amounts of water and running and men with British accents.  It was probably an exciting film; the soundtrack suggested that it was, but Ginny couldn’t help but think about how she’d arrived there, in the cinema.

She had Apparated into Harry’s flat, dressed in a green skirt and a cream, sleeveless shirt.  The cream colour made her skin appear paler than usual, but it helped make her ginger hair stand out more.  Unlike some of her brothers, Ginny’s hair had beautiful golden highlights that she loved to show off.

Once she was in Harry’s flat, she had walked in on an argument between Draco and him.  She had no idea what the row was about, but told them they reminded her of Ron and Hermione’s famous rows at Hogwarts and they both immediately shut up.  Before arriving at Harry’s flat, Ginny’s mood was already fragile and, unfortunately, their fight had put her in a bad mood.

‘You could smile, y’know,’ said Harry.  ‘You look like someone just killed Arnold.’

‘Bite your tongue!’ snapped Ginny.  ‘It’s a miracle Arnold’s still around, after the way Crookshanks almost got him last year.  He’s still hiding in my wardrobe.  He’s had a nice life for a Pygmy Puff.’

Harry smirked.  ‘Still.  The last thing you need is your mum to tell you how you need a wizard around to put a smile on your face, do you?’

‘This is such bullshit.’  Ginny had ignored the snigger she heard from Draco.  ‘ _You’re_ not married.  She should have a go at your love life.  You look underfed.  If you had a witch around to cook for you, you would fatten up.’

‘I don’t need fattening up,’ said Harry.  ‘That makes me sound like I’m going to be served for Christmas dinner or something – no, look, Gin, your mum is worried about you.  She worries about everything.  Just be glad that her clock doesn’t have stops like “happy” or “sad” or “shagging.”  We’d all be in trouble then.’

Ginny swallowed hard and nodded.  ‘You’re right.  I suppose if I ever have kids I’ll worry as well, but she needs to lay off me for a while.’

Which, incidentally, is exactly what didn’t happen.  Ginny had tried to fake a smile when they all went to The Burrow, but her mother just told her she looked manic.  Harry had shoved a handful of Quidditch magazines at Draco and told him to just go outside by the pond.  Draco didn’t seem to be in the mood for a house full of Weasleys, so he just took the magazines and walked out of the house, grumbling quietly.  

Ginny tried to clean off the table, but she botched the spell.  Mrs Weasley berated her, ‘If you ever did these spells on your own you’d know how to do them!’

‘I’ve got no reason to learn household spells.  I can clean my flat just as fast by hand.’

‘If you had someone to clean after you’d know these spells.’

‘For Merlin’s sake, Mother!  Perhaps a wizard would need to learn how to clean up after _me_ since I’m not about to give up my job to satisfy _him_.’

‘This smells really good, Mrs Weasley,’ Harry had said, obviously trying to break up the row.

‘Call me Molly.’

‘Er, right.’

Ginny began to ignore her mother and looked out of the kitchen window above the sink.  It was in the direction of the pond, but she couldn’t see it from inside the house.  

‘You know, Gin, your father met a very nice wizard at work.’  She tapped her finger against her chin as she thought.  ‘Your father was very impressed by his work ethic – and _you_ have a very strong work ethic, don’t you?’

Ginny turned and looked at her mother.  ‘What?’

‘You do, don’t you?  Work always comes first?  I think that the two of you might get along.  What, with you both loving your jobs so much.  I mean that in a very complimentary manner.’

‘Um,’ said Ginny, confused.

‘I’ve talked your father into setting you up, if that is all right with you.  Nothing’s been said to the wizard, of course.  Yet.’

Ginny winced.  ‘I don’t need you to set me up.  Besides, the case I’m working on with Harry and Tonks is keeping me busy; I’ve barely had time to think about showering let alone _dating_.’

‘This could be just the distraction you need.’

Ginny snorted.  If she wanted distraction, she knew just where to find it.

‘His name is Mathias Brown.  I think he’s related to that girl Ron used to run around with ...’

‘Lav-Lav?’ said Harry.

‘Who?’

‘Lavender,’ said Ginny, giggling.  ‘It’s – never mind.  I know Mathias Brown, Mother.’

‘Wonderful!’

‘He’s not my type.’

‘You don’t have to dismiss him simply because _I_  think he’d be suitable!’

‘I’m not!’ cried Ginny.  ‘Sometimes my love life has _nothing to do with you!_ ’

‘Ginevra—’

‘Stop it!  No.  Just ... no.  Harry, will you give my present to Guillaume whenever Bill gets here with him?  I can’t stay here.’

Ginny had opened the kitchen door with a _bang_ and stalked outside.  A hand on her arm whirled her around, almost catching her off balance.

‘Harry, stop it,’ Ginny said calmly.

‘Your mother just wants to see you happy.’

‘You don’t have to take her side, you know.’

‘I’m not taking anyone’s side.  But maybe sometimes you’re too hard on her?  She’s not trying to make you angry on purpose.’

‘I know that.’

‘She meddles in _everyone’s_ lives.  You know that.’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘Maybe.’

‘Though I guess it _has_ got much worse since she’s got older.’

Ginny snorted.  ‘That’s rather an understatement, don’t you think?’

‘Come back inside.’

‘No.  I can’t deal with it today.  Birthdays are happy and I’ll just start another row, I know it.’

‘You look tired,’ Harry observed.

Ginny nodded.  ‘I am.  This case has ... I can’t stop thinking about it and it’s making me mad.  I have trouble falling asleep ‘cause I keep running the details in my head.’

‘I know the feeling,’ said Harry.  ‘But your mother is right about the distraction bit.  I felt a lot better after I went out with my friend.’

‘Your “friend”?  Oh, Harry.’

‘So you’re really going?’

Ginny nodded.  

And she left The Burrow and had ended up, somehow, taking Draco with her.  She wasn’t sure how that bit had happened.  Had Harry suggested it?  Had she just taken him of her own accord?  But she took him Side-Along to Diagon Alley.  He didn’t say anything, only followed her as she walked through the Leaky Cauldron to Muggle London and down the pavement.  She crossed over several streets until she stopped behind a long queue of people.

‘Er, what’re we waiting for?’ Draco asked.

‘To buy tickets.’

‘Tickets for what?’

‘We’re at the cinema.  Keep your voice down.  People are going to think you’re mad if you’ve no idea what the _cinema_ is.’

‘As if I care about what a bunch of _Muggles_ think.’

‘Shut up.’

Draco hadn’t spoken after that.

XXXXXXX

He had never been to the cinema.  He had never seen a film.  It was like a wizard photograph, only with sound and music.  He wasn’t stupid; he could follow the storyline rather easily, except that it didn’t make much sense.  Everyone knew that there was only one Giant Squid in the world and he lived in the loch at Hogwarts.  Besides that, the film was all right.  His attention span had left him about thirty minutes ago, though, and he was very aware of Ginny sitting next to him, her eyes glued to the screen and her fingers tapping soundlessly against the arm rest.  He thought of putting his arm on the rest, too, and brushing against her skin, but he didn’t.  If he wanted her to sleep with him again, he’d have to go about things more subtly; make _her_ touch _him_ first.

They had stood in the queue outside for nearly ten minutes before Ginny pulled a blank piece of parchment out of her pocket and handed it to the lady behind the ticket counter, asking for two tickets.  Draco watched as the lady put the paper in the drawer and handed Ginny two tickets with the name of the film printed on them.

When they were safely away from any nasty Muggles, Draco took hold of Ginny’s elbow, making her slow her pace until she stopped walking and turned to look up at him.

‘You used magic.’

‘So?’ asked Ginny, the look in her eye almost daring him to say anything else.

‘Don’t know ... I thought you followed the rules.’

‘I’m in a bad mood.  Don’t – don’t start with me.’

Draco held up his hands in defeat.  Then he followed her inside the building and into another queue, this one much shorter, and waited.

‘Do you like fizzy drinks?’ Ginny asked him.

‘What the hell is a fizzy drink?  Some kind of poison?’

Ginny sniggered.  ‘No.  It’s – I’ll just order for you.  Are you thirty or hungry?’

Draco shook his head.

‘Are you just saying that because you’ve no money?  I’m using magic – which you _cannot_ tell anyone about – so it’s not as though I’m buying this for you.’

‘So you’re stealing from Muggles, then.’  He couldn’t help but smirk.

‘Well.  The prices for a plain Coke are so high I don’t think they’re going to lose any money by giving me a couple for free.’

‘Right.’

‘Do you want it or not?’

Draco almost choked on his words, trying to decide what he should answer.  _Do you want it or not?_   Oh – oh he wanted it.  Definitely wanted it.  Wanted _her_.  But she was talking about fizzy drinks (and the last time he saw any liquid fizz was during a Potions class).

‘Er – yeah.’

‘You’re being weird,’ said Ginny.  ‘I _knew_ this would happen – oh, hello.  Yeah, I’ll have two plain Cokes.  No sweets, but thanks.’

Draco watched as she handed a blank piece of parchment across the counter.  He had missed her bewitching them, but was impressed nonetheless.  She took two cups and two straws and walked away from the queue.  Draco followed her, watching the way the fabric of her skirt shifted back and forth across her arse as she walked.

‘You knew what would happen?’

‘That things would get weird,’ answered Ginny.

They sat in a dim room with rows upon rows of seats, all facing a giant white square.  God, he could just _smell_ the Muggles around him.  It was disgusting.  Draco sat down next to Ginny and took the cup as she held it out to him.  

‘You drink it,’ she said.

‘I know that.’

‘So stop staring at it.’

Draco sniffed the cup.  It didn’t really smell like much of anything.  He put the straw to his mouth and sucked.  _Bleggh_.  Ohh good Christ, the Muggles were serving poison!

‘You don’t like it?’

‘ _No_.’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘I suppose it’s not pumpkin juice.  Here, put it in that hole on your armrest.’

She was full of the double entendres today, but Draco kept his mouth shut as he placed his fizzy drink in the cup holder.  It was nice, having her right next to him.  He never would have guessed that Ginny Weasley was such a fantastic fuck, but she was and now he was having a hard time thinking about anything other than the way she had felt around him, the way his body felt when he was inside her.

‘Draco ... there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’

Draco turned his head towards Ginny.  She crossed her legs and pulled on her skirt so it more fully covered her thighs.  

‘What happened the other night – while it was nice and all that, it simply cannot happen again.’

‘I see.’

‘We _did_ say it meant nothing, didn’t we?’

‘We did.’

‘So, are we in agreement?’

Draco snorted.  ‘Agreement of what?’

‘That it can’t happen again.’

‘I see.  Not that it makes any sense, but, sure.’

Ginny frowned and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.  ‘What doesn’t make sense?’

‘You had fun, didn’t you?’ 

A pink flush spread across her cheeks.  ‘Yes ...’

‘Why d’you want to stop, then?’

‘Because it’s unhealthy.’

Draco couldn’t help himself; he rolled his eyes.

‘Listen – you’re a convicted _murderer_ —’

‘Would you _shut up_?’ snapped Draco.  ‘Christ, people can _hear you_.’

‘They’re just filthy Muggles, aren’t they?’ said Ginny, lowering her voice and placing a hand on Draco’s forearm on the armrest.  ‘You were in prison and when this case is over you’re going back to prison, right?  Or at least you _could_ go back.  Not to mention everything that happened at Hogwarts—’

‘You know, if you want to bring the past into it, I could make mention of you being possessed by the Dark Lord and setting a murdering monster loose into the school.’

Ginny blinked in surprise.  ‘I can’t believe you said that.’

‘It’s true, isn’t it?  That’s what my father told me.’

‘And your father is a reliable source?’

‘It’s true,’ said Draco.  He forced his eyes to stay focused on Ginny’s, and not to stray down to her hand on his arm.  ‘Besides, _so fucking what_?  I let Death Eaters into the school.  Dumbledore died.  I poisoned your brother.  I killed an Auror.  I tried to kidnap a girl.  Even if you heard my side of everything it wouldn’t make a difference, would it?  I’d still be Malfoy from Hogwarts and I’d still be a convict, right?  But you still slept with me and it was still _good_ , so I don’t really see what the past matters.  It clearly didn’t matter the other night or you wouldn’t have led me into the other room. ’

Ginny at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed.  ‘I didn’t realise you cared what anyone else thought.’

‘I don’t.  You’re the one who cares.  If you didn’t give a shit, then you wouldn’t be so intent to never sleep with me again.’

‘We work together!  If things get any weirder – we have the girls to think of!’

‘You’ve slept with Potter,’ said Draco.

‘So?’

‘You work with him.’

‘That’s in the past.’

‘But the past is important to _you_ , isn’t it?  Or else nothing I’ve done would weigh into your decision to never have sex again.’

‘I plan to have sex again,’ said Ginny, ‘just not with you.’

‘That’s fine, but if the past is important, then how can you work with Potter?  You had sex with him more than once, didn’t you?’

‘But not _during_ a case,’ argued Ginny.  ‘I didn’t think you would care so much.’

‘Oh, I don’t,’ said Draco.  ‘But if you’re going to put a stop to it, it should at least be for a good reason.’

‘Please.  It can’t happen again because I don’t _want_ it to happen again.’

‘Well,’ said Draco, ‘I suppose that’s a good reason, then.  Thanks.’

Ginny sighed.  ‘Draco, I’m saying it again: it simply cannot happen ever again.  D’you understand?’

‘I understand.’

‘Good.’

Draco leaned close to Ginny, his mouth near her ear.  ‘But if you’re going to tell we can never sleep together again, you might want to stop touching me.’

Of course, she had immediately removed her hand and cleared her throat, pretending to ignore the whole thing.  The lights dimmed further and previews began to play.

‘Did you tell Harry?’ Draco asked, his voice very low.

‘No,’ answered Ginny, whispering back.  ‘Well, actually yes.  But he didn’t believe me.’

‘He’s rather thick.’

‘I don’t think so.  It’s not like we’re being obvious about it.’

Draco had thought they _had_ been rather obvious about it, but perhaps the thought of Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley together was so ludicrous that no one paid attention to the signs.  He stretched his legs out a bit, moving his right foot closer to Ginny’s.  It was a whisper of a touch, right next to her ankle, and she didn’t seem to notice, but if she uncrossed her legs her foot would most likely brush against his.  He was beginning to play the game again and he could barely contain a smirk.

‘Right.  We’re very good at the clandestine affairs.’

From in front of them, a man with a round, plump face turned around, looking cross.  ‘Would the two of you shut your mouths?’

‘It’s the previews!’ snapped Ginny.

The man huffed, but turned around, grumbling to the portly woman next to him.

‘So this isn’t the – what did you call it?’

‘What?  Oh.  The film?  No, this is bits of future films that they show us before the actual film.’

‘Why?’

‘So that you know what’s coming in the future so you can plan to see it.’

‘That’s stupid.’

‘It’s advertising.  You see ads all the time when you open the _Daily Prophet_ or _Quidditch Weekly_.’

‘Besides the magazines that Harry hurled at me earlier, how often do you suppose I read the bloody newspaper in prison?’

‘The Dementors aren’t there anymore, so I just assumed that perhaps—’

‘No.’

‘Did you read anything?’

‘No.’

‘So ... what did you _do_ all day?’

‘Nothing.’

‘But—’

‘ _Shhh_ _!_ ’ another voice said, directed towards them.  This time Draco had to look around for the owner of the voice.  It belonged to someone on the other side of Ginny.

‘It’s the _previews!_ ’ Ginny snapped again.  ‘Good grief.’  She turned back to Draco, lowering her voice even more, and said, ‘So if you did nothing ...’

‘Nothing.  They said they were running it like a Muggle prison.  We could go outside for one hour everyday, but they slipped us this potion in our food that weakened our magic so we couldn’t fight back if we got hold of a wand – it doesn’t matter.  I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘I’m sorry you had to go.’

Draco was surprised to hear her say this.  ‘Er, right.  Well.  When you’re guilty of kidnap and murder then that’s where you go.’

Ginny tilted her head to the side, giving him an indescribable look.  ‘But are you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘Are you guilty of kidnap and murder?’

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but then promptly shut it.  He opened it again, but nothing came out.  After a few seconds he finally said, ‘What you have to understand about that is—’

The plump man in front of them turned around again, putting his index finger up to his lips in a jerky motion and turning a bright shade of purple.

Ginny sighed and resettled herself in her seat, focusing on the screen in front of her.  It took him several moments, but Draco finally turned his gaze to the film as well.

XXXXXXX

Somewhere towards the end of the film, Ginny realised her leg was falling asleep.  She uncrossed her legs, setting her foot down on the floor.  It touched Draco’s foot and she completely froze.  She had made such a _fool_ of herself earlier, telling him that they couldn’t sleep together again while touching his arm the entire time.  She hadn’t even noticed she had done that until he pointed it out.  

But it was said and done.  They would not have sex together again.  He said he understood and she gave her reasons, even though he found them feeble.  It didn’t matter; he had agreed to not sleep with her again.  That was the important thing.

All Ginny had to do now was keep her distance from Draco and not agree to take care of him for Harry again.  Or, if she _did_ take him, it would be when she hadn’t been drinking and preferably when she was so tired that she would just fall right to sleep so he couldn’t try to seduce her.

Would he try to do that, though?  She hoped he would.

_No_.  No, she didn’t.  She wanted them to keep their distance because that could never, ever happen again.

But she needed to move her foot away from Draco’s and stop touching him.  That would be the first step.

XXXXXXX

Cecilia was walking down the sidewalk, though she had no idea how she’d even arrived there.  The last she remembered, she was in her flat, taking a shower.  She _had_ taken a shower, hadn’t she?  Her body didn’t particularly feel clean.  But not only did she feel dirty, she felt cold.  All her skin broke out in gooseflesh and she shivered as she walked.

A man in all black clothes with a silver tie walked in front of her; she jumped out of the way, ramming against the side of a building.  She rubbed her shoulder and choked back a sob.

She’d been too tired to Apparate and she was all out of Floo powder.  She remembered that now.  So she left the block of flats and decided to walk to the Ministry.  It wasn’t so far.  Less than a kilometre.  Or it _would_ be less than a kilometre if she had been going the right way.

Which way was the right way?  Oh, hell, she was going the wrong way – she must be going the wrong way to not have seen the phone booth that would take her to the Ministry of Magic.  

‘I’m so stupid,’ she said to herself.

A woman carrying a small baby gave her a funny look as she walked by, moving the baby to her other arm, farther away from Cecilia.

‘What’re you looking at?’ snapped Cecilia.  The baby let out a wail and Cecilia turned quickly away and began to run down the sidewalk.  Everyone was looking at her and whispering amongst themselves as she passed by.  She had to get away from all the eyes, watching her.  

Of all the eyes, most of them belonged to men.  She choked on her tears and sniffed back the snot in her nose.  What if _he_ was here, watching her?  All these men, staring at her with unblinking eyes.

The eyes were beginning to burn her skin, causing it to blister, scalding and eating away at her flesh.  Her legs were growing tired and she had to slow down.  With dirty fingernails, she began to pick at the scabs on her skin from the burns.

‘Ouch!’ she cried.  She pulled the sleeve of her jumper up; her skin was unmarked.  The tears that had been building up for days finally broke.  She was officially going mad.  

She saw a passageway between two buildings and she went down it.  Everything was spinning, the buildings in front of her turning in circles around her.  It made her eyes burn and her head swim.  The alley was opened at the other end at another sidewalk.  Perhaps that was the way to the Ministry.

Just as she was about to start walking again, an owl hooted over head.  She looked up, towards the rooftops, and saw it, an eagle owl perched on the edge of the building in front of her.  It swooped down with a loud, ‘ _Hooo_ _hooo_ ,’ and plunged through the air, diving at Cecilia’s head.

‘Get away from me!’ she yelled and the owl pulled up just in time, its feet grazing her hair.  She threw her hands up in the air to shield herself and noticed a note rolled up and tied to the owl’s leg.  Her name was scribbled on it.  ‘That’s me!’ she screeched.  ‘I’m right here!  I’m – _get off me!_ ’

A hand had grabbed her arm, whirling her about-face.  She looked up into the eyes of a very tall black man.  He was completely bald and the look on his face bordered on dangerous.

‘Let go of me!  Stop looking at me!’  Cecilia covered her face with her free arm.  ‘You’re burning me!’

‘What’s the matter with you?’ the man asked, his voice deep and raspy.  ‘I work for the Ministry.  I can help you if you just bloody calm down!’

Cecilia twisted and turned and squirmed until the man’s grip broke.  She took off towards the sidewalk and ran as quickly as her legs would let her.  The sidewalk was crowded and she wove through the masses of people, all dressed in dark colours, watching her, blocking her path.  Her legs gave out and she tripped and fell, the rough concrete of the sidewalk scratching her knees and palms.  

Above her, the man from before stood.  He whispered something; he was talking to a window.  Cecilia put her head down on the sidewalk, cursing herself for having turned mad.  

‘Don’t,’ whispered Cecilia, trying to muster up all her energy, but there didn’t seem to be any.  ‘Don’t touch me.’

But the man wasn’t listening.  He took her arms and lifted her up, pulling her towards the window.  She closed her eyes, waiting for a crash, but it didn’t come.  Instead she felt herself sort of melt through the glass, only without the heat, and she found herself in a waiting room.

‘This isn’t the Ministry,’ surmised Cecilia, dropping to her knees.  Her hands began searching through her pockets for her wand.  She needed to defend herself from this man; she was being kidnapped!  She found it and pulled it out, pointing at the man.  ‘I’ll hex you if you don’t get away from me and let me go.’

He ignored her and a new voice broke the silence.

‘What’s going on?  Who is this?  There’s a queue _there_.’

‘I know,’ said the man.  ‘She had a fit outside.  Now she’s pointing a quill at me.  She’s mad.’

‘Is she even a witch?’

‘I’ve seen her at the Ministry before, once or twice.’

‘MAKE THEM STOP STARING!’ Cecilia cried.  ‘THEY’RE BURNING MY SKIN.’

‘Good gracious me!’ said the new voice.  ‘Edmund!  Where’s that blasted boy?  Wants to be a  Healer, but doesn’t want to work.  Edmund!  There you are.  Go fetch Healer Weasley and do it _immediately_.’

‘Should we leave her lying there?’ asked the man.

Cecilia tried to stand up, but her legs were too tired from all the walking she’d done trying to get to the Ministry.  The lights in the room were too bright and she could hardly see.  She backed up, squinting, trying to see, but she couldn’t.  Her back collided with a wall and she stopped moving.  

‘Don’t let him get me,’ she whispered, not even aware of whether anyone heard.  ‘Don’t let him find me.’

‘What d’you need, Rosalind?’ a new voice said.  ‘Edmund came to my office in quite a state – Kingsley?’

Cecilia heard the man’s voice again.  ‘Hello, Ginny.  Actually, it’s that witch over there.  I think she’s mad.  I was responding to a call at a block of Muggle flats when I saw her.  My partner went on ahead of me so I could take her here.’

‘Right,’ said that new voice.  It was soft and feminine.

A hand reached towards Cecilia and she recoiled, lashing out and trying to kick the woman away from her.

‘Look at her.  She’s delusional, did you say, Kingsley?’

‘I think so.  I’ve seen when a madman is out around people.  Their magic gets away from them.  It’s dangerous and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is far too busy to answer calls about a madwoman.’ 

‘I don’t think she’s mad.  I think she’s sleep-deprived.  Will you _stop kicking me_?  EDMUND!  Christ, where is that boy?  Oh, there you are.  Take her upstairs, but do _not_ let her lay down.  Make her sit up.  Oh don’t give me that look.’

Cecilia swallowed.  These new people wanted to take her away.  She couldn’t let that happen.  She tried to kick again, but she couldn’t move.  They’d bewitched her!  She couldn’t move a muscle!

‘My name is Ginny Weasley.’  The voice was closer and Cecilia saw a fair-skinned witch with long ginger hair come into view.  The voice was calming.  ‘How long’s it been since you’ve slept?’

Cecilia felt something warm wash over her body and she could move again.  ‘Weeks.’

‘Well, I doubt that.  A body dies after eleven days without sleep.’

‘Weeks,’ said Cecilia again.

‘You’re at St Mungo’s.  You know what St Mungo’s is, don’t you?  I’m going to have a wizard named Edmund take you upstairs to a room, all right?  He’s a very nice boy and he won’t hurt you.’

‘A room?’ repeated Cecilia.  ‘No!  No, you can’t!’  She grasped Ginny’s hands, pleading with her.  ‘You can’t let me fall asleep.  Don’t let me!  He’ll be there, he’s in my dreams!  Don’t let him get me, please, don’t let him!’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Of course, no one will let you fall asleep.  Are you all right otherwise?  You’re not hurt, are you?’

‘I’m very cold,’ said Cecilia. 

‘We can get you a blanket.’

‘NO!  No!  Nothing like that!  I can’t – I won’t fall asleep.  You can’t make me fall asleep!’

‘No one’s going to let you fall asleep!’ said Ginny sternly.  ‘We’ll do a warming charm, then, all right?  Edmund, take her for me, will you?’

New hands took hold of Cecilia, helping her stand up.  

‘DON’T LET HIM GET ME!’ she screamed.  ‘PLEASE!’

‘No one’s going to get you,’ said Ginny.

Cecilia kept her eyes on Ginny as she was led out of the room and towards a set of stairs.  She heard a few last words before she was taken into the stairwell and out of sight:

‘Someone get me an Express Owl.  I need Harry Potter and I need him _NOW!_ ’

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX


	11. Chapter 11 : The Telling of Dreams

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Eleven: The Telling of Dreams**

XXXXXXX

Draco watched as his cousin scrunched up her face and changed her hair from a short and spiky pink to a long and curly blue.  She pulled a strand from behind her ear and studied it.

‘I can never get the right shade of blue,’ she said.  ‘I want it to look like the blue in the morning, right after sunrise.’

‘Gurrrhhhh,’ groaned Draco in frustration.  ‘This is fucking ridiculous.’

‘ _Shut it_ ,’ snapped Harry.

‘Potter – shut up,’ said Draco coolly.

Harry stood up and leaned over the long table in the meeting room at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  He was trying to look menacing, but Draco wasn’t intimidated.  The Ministry needed his services and short of breaking the law, Draco wasn’t going back to prison any time soon.  Annoying Harry Potter wouldn’t get him sent to Azkaban and he was right sick and tired of listening to people tell them why they were victims of sleep deprivation and mind-raping.

‘There’s only a couple more on the list today,’ said Tonks.  ‘Then we can go home early.’

‘Fantastic,’ said Draco dryly.  ‘You realise that no one we’ve spoken to has the brain capacity of—’

‘ _Do_ stop talking, Malfoy.’

‘If I didn’t take orders from you when we were at Hogwarts, what makes you think suddenly I’ll pay attention?’

Harry’s lip lifted slightly in a sneer.  ‘Because I’ve the power to send you back to Azkaban,’ he snarled, ‘whether or not the case is closed.’

Draco sat back in his chair, practically daring Harry to send him to prison.

‘Are you enjoying time away from cell bars, Draco?’ Tonks asked sweetly, turning her heart-shaped face towards him.

‘Not particularly.’

‘It’s better than Azkaban, though, isn’t it?  I know they’ve got really bad nosh there.’

Draco folded his hands in front of him and rested them on the table.  ‘Does your husband like it when you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Change your appearance.’

‘Drives him mad!  He doesn’t mind the hair colour so long as I keep my same face and body.  Though between you and me, my ears are different sizes so I morph them to be identical, but don’t rat me out.’

Draco shook his head and rolled his eyes.  No wonder she had been removed from the family; she was the most nonsensical person he’d ever met.

‘Wotcher, Kingsley!’ said Tonks brightly.  ‘I sent you our weekly write-up, didn’t I?  We’re no further in the case now than we were last time we spoke, but—’

‘Didn’t you get the owl?’

Draco looked up at the bald, black man standing in the doorway.  He was tall and intimidating-looking; Draco immediately liked him.

‘What owl?’

‘The _owl_ – do you people never check your desks?  It’s probably been sitting there for two hours!’ the man called Kingsley roared.  ‘At St Mungo’s, a witch was brought in with all the signs of – who are you?’

‘Er,’ said Draco, taken aback at being addressed.  ‘Draco Malfoy.  Who are you?’

‘That’s Kingsley Shacklebolt,’ said Harry, ‘our _boss_.’  To Kingsley Harry said, ‘I was at my desk not twenty minutes ago and there wasn’t an owl.  What’s going on?  Is Ginny all right?’

‘She’s fine.  There’s a witch with the sleep deprivation signs.  Much more convincing than all the loons that have been standing in line at the Ministry, waiting to get interviewed by you lot.  Go to St Mungo’s.  _NOW!_ ’

XXXXXXX

‘They’ll be here any minute,’ said Ginny, wanting to believe the words were true.  ‘They’re going to talk to you about how you’ve been feeling and I want you to tell them everything you’ve told me, all right?’

Cecilia nodded.  ‘Yeah, okay, but you’re not going to let him get me, are you?’  She began to scratch at her arm.  Ginny reached out and took her hand and shook her head.

‘No, no scratching.  Remember what I said?  There aren’t any insect bites on your arm.  It’s clear.  If you keep doing that, I’ll have to restrain your hands.’

The blonde witched grabbed Ginny’s hands in both of hers.  ‘No!’ she implored.  ‘You can’t!  I need my hands!  To defend myself, to make him go away.’

‘Cecilia, there won’t be—’

‘I have to fight,’ continued Cecilia, as though she hadn’t heard Ginny.  ‘You’ll teach me to fight won’t you?  I mean, I’m here.  You have to cure me.  I need to learn how to fight him.’

‘Yes, we’ll teach you to fight him,’ lied Ginny.  ‘I promise we will.’  There was a small knock at the hospital room door.  ‘I need to see who that is.  I’ll be right back.’

Ginny gave Cecilia’s hand a squeeze and turned to leave her room.  She shut the door behind her as she stepped out into the corridor.

‘Where have you been?’ she shrieked.  ‘Didn’t you get my owl?  One of the assistants sent it off for me.  Edmund.  You didn’t get it?’

Harry’s eyes were wide and he shook his head.  ‘No.’

Ginny glanced at Tonks and Draco who stood on either side of Harry.  Tonks shook her head as well, but Draco appeared bored and tired.  He had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the wall.  The stance was lazy, but somehow he looked elegantly lazy and Ginny had to tear her eyes away from him.

Her brain tried to refocus on Harry and Tonks, but she felt the flesh that covered her hips burn as she remembered the feel of Draco’s hands on them as he flipped her from her back to her stomach in the midst of their lovemaking.

_Fucking_ , Ginny corrected herself.  She didn’t need a romantic-sounding word like _lovemaking_ confusing her as to what really happened that night.

‘She’s scared,’ said Ginny, ‘and she’s sleep-Fdeprived.  She talks a bit like she’s on drugs, smoked too much gillyweed.  If you watch her eyes, they go in and out of focus constantly and I think that she’s seeing everything in a literal haze.  She’s hallucinating off and on, but she can carry on a conversation.  From what she’s told me there’s someone out to get her – a man – and he can only get her when she’s sleeping.’

‘Did she say why she didn’t come earlier?’ asked Tonks.  ‘She waited a while before coming here.’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘She didn’t say and I didn’t ask.  I think I’ve gained her trust.  She doesn’t like wizards.  Harry, perhaps you should stay outside at first and let me introduce Tonks.  She can better explain what you both have to do regarding this case.  Once she’s comfortable with Tonks, you can come in.’

‘What about Malfoy?  We’ll need him to go inside her head and find her dreams.  We need him to put everything in the Pensieve so we can see it.’

‘I know, Harry, but one thing at a time.  She won’t talk if you just all go in there and demand to examine her head.’

‘We’re running out of time, Gin, we need—’

‘As the Healer in charge of her care, I’m telling you _no_.’

Harry sighed, but nodded.  He looked at Tonks and she patted him on the shoulder as she went inside the hospital room with Ginny.

‘Cecilia?  This is Tonks.’

As she stood next to Ginny, Tonks smiled at Cecilia.  ‘Wotcher, Cecilia.’

‘Tonks?  That’s a funny name.  Is it a family name?’

‘Er, no.  It’s my maiden name, actually ...’

‘Cecilia, Tonks works with Harry and they’re both heading an investigation for the Ministry.  I know you’re not comfortable around men so I wanted you to meet Tonks first.  They both have questions for you.  Do you think you can talk to Harry, too?’

Cecilia looked sceptical.  Her eyes were wide and staring at Tonks.  ‘What’s he going to do?’ she asked.

‘Harry?  They’re both going to ask you questions.’

‘I don’t want him looking at me.’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘No, it’ll be okay.  Harry doesn’t want to hurt you.  He won’t touch you.’

‘All right.  Just questions?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Just questions – like the questions I asked you earlier.’  She went to the door and opened it, gesturing for Harry to come inside.  ‘Cecilia, this is Harry Potter.’

‘Hello, Cecilia,’ said Harry, walking up to the bed.  Cecilia shook and moved to the edge opposite Harry, holding her hands over her face.

‘Don’t let him look at me!’ she cried.

Ginny sighed.  ‘He’ll turn his back, all right?  Turn around, Harry.’

Harry looked disgruntled as he turned to face the doorway.

‘Ask away,’ said Ginny.

‘This is a charmed quill,’ said Tonks, holding up a purple quill for Cecilia to see.  She also pulled out a tattered leather-bound notebook.  ‘It’ll write down everything we say so we can read it if we need to later.  You all right with that?’

Cecilia shrugged and nodded.

‘Did you know the Ministry is looking for people who’ve got sleep deprivation?’ asked Tonks gently.

‘I saw the paper this morning, but I hadn’t even looked at the _Prophet_ in a while.  The owls just come in my open window and drop it on the kitchen table.’

‘When was the last time you slept for an entire night?’ 

Cecilia didn’t answer.

‘Hey, Cecilia?’ said Ginny soothingly.  ‘Did you hear—’

‘Weeks ... and weeks ago.’

‘What’s keeping you from sleeping?’

‘The man,’ whispered Cecilia.  

‘What man?’

‘I dunno his name.’

‘Can you tell me what he looks like?’

‘He keeps his face hidden in the dark.  But he comes every night.  I think he’s going to kill me.’

‘Why d’you think that?’

‘I don’t know how the _Prophet_ owls got paid ...  I wonder how many papers I got for free ...’

‘Cecilia, why d’you think the man’s going to kill you?’ asked Tonks again.

‘Oh.  Because.’

Ginny hid a snigger as Harry rolled his eyes in frustration.

‘What does he do to you?’ Harry asked.  The look in his eyes was defiant as he caught Ginny’s gaze.

‘He ...’

‘You have to tell them,’ said Ginny.

‘He hurts me.’

‘How?’ asked Harry, turning only his head to look at Cecilia.

‘Stop it!  It _burns_!’

Harry groaned in aggravation and averted his eyes.

‘She’s slightly ...’ began Ginny, softly enough for only Harry to hear.  She paused.  ‘She’s having hallucinations, but she’s not _mad_ ... yet.’

‘Wonderful,’ muttered Harry. 

‘Look, Cecilia,’ said Tonks, ‘we want to help you, but we have to know what’s happening.  Now, is this man coming into your flat?’

‘I don’t think so.  I don’t know.  He only comes when I’m sleeping.  In my dreams.’

This time, Harry turned to look at Tonks.  They had needed to hear those exact words from her to prove she was a victim; they couldn’t specifically ask her if they were dreams in case their question influenced her memory.

‘In your dreams, perfect.  Brilliant.  When did it start?’

‘I dunno exactly.  I had trouble staying ...”

As Harry opened his mouth to say something, Ginny shook her head, stopping him.

“... asleep,” finished Cecilia.  “Strange, that.”

“What’s strange?” asked Harry, glancing around his shoulder quickly.  

“That my dreams started the same time I had trouble sleeping.  Convenient for him.”

“D’you usually have trouble sleeping, then?” enquired Tonks.  The purple quill hung mid-air, waiting for a response.

Instead of answering, Cecilia began to pick at her skin again.  Ginny reached out a hand and stopped her.

‘I had trouble sleeping once about ...’

‘About when?’ asked Tonks.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

Harry turned around and looked right at Cecilia.  ‘About when did you start having trouble sleeping?’

Cecilia shut her eyes, but kept her face turned towards Harry.  ‘A couple ... a couple of ... months ... a couple of months ago ...’  Her head began to droop, but as suddenly as her chin dropped, she bolted awake again, in a panic.  ‘You let me fall asleep!’ she screamed.  ‘ _You let me fall asleep!_ ’

‘You weren’t asleep,’ said Ginny, reaching her hand out.

Cecilia slapped it away.  ‘You said you wouldn’t let him get me!’

‘I won’t,’ said Ginny, ‘but you have to trust—’

‘I can’t fall asleep!’

‘Cecilia,’ said Harry firmly, ‘ _I_ won’t let him get you.  Tonks and I are Senior Aurors at the Ministry.  Our job is to stop this guy.  He’s not going to get you.’

‘Really?’ she asked, looking from Harry to Tonks.  ‘You promise?’

Harry nodded.  ‘But we need to look in your head first.’

‘We have a skilled Legilimens,’ added Tonks quickly.  ‘We want him to find your dreams and look at them.’

‘Why?’

‘So he can put what he saw in a Pensieve and then we all can look at everything for our invest – invest – investigation.’  Tonks yawned loudly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.  ‘Sorry ‘bout that.  Sick baby at the house ... didn’t sleep much last night.’

‘Right,’ said Cecilia.

‘Will you let him look at you?’ asked Harry.

‘Okay ...’ said Cecilia, though her voice sounded unsure.

‘I’ll be right here, monitoring both of you,’ said Ginny.  ‘So you don’t have to worry.’

‘Okay.’

‘It will really help us,’ said Harry.  ‘We need what’s in your head to catch this guy and throw him in Azkaban.’

‘I’d rather you just castrate him so he can never do this to anyone else,’ muttered Cecilia.  ‘All right.  Let him do it.’

XXXXXXX

‘Listen to me,’ said Ginny softly, looking right at Draco, her pulse loud in her ears.  ‘Cecilia’s going to be conscious when you do the Legilimency so you need to go slow.  When you find the right door in her head, I need you to gently open it.  Not like with the other witches who were already unconscious.’

Draco nodded and even though his head was held high, giving off an air of arrogance, he seemed slightly nervous as well.

‘If I need you to stop, what should I do?’

‘To stop?  Well, since she’s awake I’ll look into her eyes to get into her head, but it’ll look like we’re both in a daze.  Just pull me away from her.  I probably won’t hear you if you yell.’

‘All right.’  Ginny turned to check on Cecilia a few feet away in the room when Draco’s hand grasped her upper arm.

‘Do you think something will happen?’

‘She’s really fragile,’ whispered Ginny, leaning into Draco’s touch.  ‘I don’t know.  I’m more worried about the Legilimency overloading her brain.  Emotional stresses have extensive physical reactions.’

‘Oh, don’t get all Healer on me.  I’m not an idiot; I know what stress bloody feels like.’

Ginny felt like stomping her foot, but she simply removed her arm from Draco’s grasp, furious at herself for letting her body grow so warm at his touch.

‘Just do your Legilimency thing so I can go home.’

Ginny turned and went to Cecilia’s bed, checking the witch over once more before Draco began.  She’d never seen anyone perform Legilimency like this before.  Draco put his hands on Cecilia’s bare wrists and looked into her eyes.  They both went still, as though they were Petrified.  The muscles in Draco’s neck twitched and his jaw clenched and unclenched.  

‘Stop it,’ Ginny whispered to herself, looking at Cecilia instead.  The girl seemed fine; her body was rigid but she was breathing normally.

The seconds turned into minutes that stretched out, seemingly without end.  The back of Ginny’s throat tickled and she wanted to leave the room to get water, but she knew she couldn’t.  She supposed she could have conjured-up something to drink, but she didn’t want to risk any disturbances.

Suddenly, Cecilia began to shake.  She looked as though she was having a seizure.  Before Ginny had the chance to pull Draco away, he leapt off the bed and fell to the floor, knocking over a table of potions and Healer supplies.

‘ _Fuck_!’ he cried, rubbing the arm that he had extended, trying to break his fall.  He stayed on his back, breathing in deeply.

Since Draco looked relatively okay, Ginny went to Cecilia.  The girl was still shaking, almost violently, and her breathing was uneven.  Ginny’s fingers searched through her green Healer robes for a potion she always kept there.  It was a calming potion, very potent, and she forced three drops into Cecilia’s mouth.  Almost instantly she calmed down, her eyes blinking rapidly.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Ginny.

Cecilia shook her head.  ‘No, what was he ... why did he ...’  Tears fell from her eyes.

From behind Ginny, Draco stood, still rubbing his arm.  ‘She pushed me out of her head,’ he said.  ‘I’m surprised my brain didn’t explode.’

‘Did you see her dreams?’

Draco nodded.  ‘Yeah.  I saw most of them.  They were ... maybe we should talk about this outside?’

Ginny knew Draco was right.  ‘Cecilia, we’re going to go to my office.  Will you be all right in here by yourself?’

The potion had made Cecilia appear serene on the outside, but Ginny wasn’t sure how calm Cecilia truly felt.

‘I don’t know.’

‘If you need me, you can just yell my name.  My office is across the corridor.’

Cecilia nodded.  ‘Okay.’

‘We won’t be gone long.’

‘Wait.  You believe me?’

‘Of course we do.’

‘I never thought anyone would believe me.  I thought everyone would think I was mad.  I thought I _was_ mad.  It seems unreal that you believe me.’

‘What’s happened to you is very real,’ said Ginny.  ‘Very real and very scary.  Don’t doubt that.  We all believe you.  Like I said, I’m just right across the hallway, okay?’

Ginny left the room, Draco right behind her.  She shut the door once they were both in the corridor.  Her hands sought out Draco’s hurt arm and she looked at it.

‘I think it’s only a bruise, though it’ll probably be a lovely shade of black by tomorrow.’

Draco nodded.

‘Tell me.’

‘They were violent.  Everything I saw in her head.  The more violent it got, the more she tried to push me away.  She finally did it.  Obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ repeated Ginny.  ‘D’you want a potion?’

‘For what?’

‘You look tired.  Normally I make you lie down and sleep after you do this.’

Draco shrugged.  ‘I could probably use something.  My arm feels like something’s stabbing it.’

‘My office.  C’mon.’

They walked into Ginny’s office, where Harry and Tonks were sitting, waiting.  When Ginny and Draco walked in, they looked anxious.

‘Pensieve first,’ said Ginny.  ‘Then, potion.’

Draco nodded and Ginny handed him her wand.  He placed it at his temple and pulled a long silver strand away from his head.  It swirled around in the air and he directed it into the bowl on Ginny’s desk.  Curiosity getting the better of her, Ginny peered into the Pensieve.  She didn’t lean over enough to get pulled inside the memory, but she could see bits and pieces.  She saw the violence Draco had been referring to and it made her insides contract in a most unpleasant way.

She turned away from her desk and took a bottle from her bookshelves, handing it to Draco.

‘It’s like coffee,’ she said.  ‘Only it’ll last twenty-four hours.  It won’t do anything for your arm, though.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Draco, putting the bottle to his lips and drinking a small sip.  ‘You use this shit?  It tastes vile.’

‘Sometimes I’m here for twenty-four hours straight trying to diagnose people who come in.  I don’t care how it tastes, so long as it keeps me awake.’

‘We should give some of that to your patient,’ said Harry.

‘Absolutely not,’ replied Ginny.  ‘She’s about ready to go insane and if she loses much more sleep I don’t know if I can turn back the madness.  She _needs_ to sleep and she needs to sleep _tonight_.’

‘We need to look at this,’ said Tonks, ‘soon-like.  I’ve got to get home.  Remus has been with the kids all day and like I said, one of them is sick.  Something Muggle.  I forget what it’s called ...’

‘Colic,’ supplied Ginny.

‘Yeah!  That’s it.’

‘The potions are much too strong,’ said Ginny.  ‘There’s some wizards working on a weaker dose, but it doesn’t work yet.  One day they’ll make one that works.  If you two are going to look at that memory, I’m leaving.  I can’t take watching any more witches get sexually assaulted over and over again.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ sighed Tonks.

‘Me neither.’

‘I’ll just be outside ...’

‘Take Malfoy with you,’ said Harry as Ginny left her office.

She barely heard her door shut as she leaned her back against the wall and slid to the floor, the tile cold under her.  She brought her knees to her chest.  Above her, Draco lingered, and she could feel his hesitation.  He finally sat next to her, but not touching.

‘How d’you stand it?’ whispered Ginny.  ‘Seeing all those girls get raped?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered Draco.  ‘I suppose I don’t think about them.’

‘How the hell do you manage not to think about it?’

‘Oh, well, being an arrogant prick takes loads more thinking than you realise.’

Ginny’s mouth hung open for a moment before she sniggered at the recognition that Draco had just made a joke.

‘You should smile more often.  You look like shit when you don’t.’

‘You know all the right things to say, don’t you?’

‘If you can’t sleep why don’t you take a potion?  You’re a Healer – there’re potions all over this place.’

‘I don’t like the feeling of potions,’ said Ginny.  ‘It’s not that I can’t sleep.  I _can_ sleep, but it’s not good sleep.  I’m just stressed out.  That’s all.’

‘Loosen yourself up a bit, then.’

‘Right.’

‘I could name a few things that would bang that stress right out of your body.’

‘I think that was another joke.’

‘I’m a Malfoy.  We’re too serious to joke.’

Ginny smiled.  ‘Thanks,’ she said.  ‘I do feel a bit better.’

Draco nodded.  ‘Right.’

‘I wonder if they’ll find him.’

‘You shouldn’t worry so much.  They’re not your problem.’

‘Of course they’re my problem, they’re—’

‘They’re your patients.  You just have to make sure they don’t die.’

‘Four of them are unconscious and I’ve no idea how to wake them up.’

Ginny glanced back at Draco.  His white-blonde hair blended into the starch white walls behind him.  Ginny had an overwhelming urge to reach out and run her fingers through his hair.  Her body was tense and her mind was juggling a thousand different thoughts at any given moment.  She needed a releaser and Draco was right: there were a few things that could _bang_ her stress right away.  

_No!_ _You said it was a ONE time thing!_

Before she could yell at herself anymore, Tonks and Harry emerged from her office, both looking disturbed.

‘I can’t even begin to tell you,’ said Harry.  ‘Bloody most disturbing things I’ve ever seen in my life.  I need a drink.  How’s Cecilia doing?’

‘She’s calmed down, but she can’t stay the night in there alone.  One of us needs to stay with her.’

‘I don’t volunteer,’ said Draco.

‘You can’t unless you stay with one of us,’ said Harry.

‘I _have_ to go home,’ said Tonks.

‘I know,’ replied Ginny.  ‘Get some rest and take care of your kids.  Let Remus know we’re thinking about him.  I know how tough sick children can be.’

‘Thank you,’ said Tonks.  She patted Harry on the shoulder before going down the corridor towards the stairwell.  

‘I’ll stay,’ said Harry.  ‘Think she trusts me enough?’

‘You did give her that whole bit about not letting anything happen to her.  She seemed to like that.’

‘Yeah, she did warm up to me a bit in the end.’

Ginny nodded.  ‘I’ll tell her she needs to sleep.  She’s probably more vulnerable when she’s weak anyway.  Her mind isn’t strong.  Sleep will help heal her.  If she starts dreaming, wake her up.’

‘Sure.  Wait.  Do I have to stay awake all night?’

‘I’ll get that blasted assistant Edmund to bring you coffee every hour.  I need to have a chat with him anyway about not sending out Express Owls when I ask him to.’

Harry sighed.  ‘All right, but if I’m staying here, then Malfoy stays at your flat again.’

‘I’m too tired to argue.  Let me find Edmund and then we’ll go.’

XXXXXXX

Edmund had claimed forgetfulness.  ‘It was my break and I went to the tearoom,’ he had said, ‘and then I forgot all about it.  Is that girl okay, though?’

Ginny just stalked off, but not before telling him she would have him sacked if he didn’t bring Harry coffee through the night.  She went back to Cecilia’s room and made sure everything was all right there before taking hold of Draco to go home.

As soon as they Side-Along Apparated into Ginny’s flat, she fell to her knees, releasing her grip on Draco’s arm.

‘Shit!’ she cried, her palms slapping against the hardwood floor when she tried to break her fall.  She stood and pressed her fingers against her temples, hoping the pressure would make the pain in her head go away.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Mm.  Fine.  I’m tired is all and just ... shit, just stressed.’

‘Yeah – mad rapist running about, breaking into witches’ heads.’

‘No one’s ever seen anything like it before and since I’m on the stupid case I feel responsible if we can’t stop him.  I know you nicely pointed out that it’s not my job to stop him, but that’s hardly the point.  Not to mention the relationship with my mum is right shit at the moment.’  Ginny dropped her hands, her eyes gliding up Draco’s body to his thin face.

‘Why?  You’re not the perfect daughter?’

‘No,’ replied Ginny.

‘Shocking.’

‘She wants me to get married and have kids like her.  She wants to set me up on dates.’

‘Like her?’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘She was married when she was eighteen, right out of Hogwarts.  And she’s got seven kids.’

Draco rolled his eyes.  ‘I know all that, but maybe she doesn’t want you to be like her.  She might think you’re lonely.’

‘... Er – are you serious?’

‘My mother always thought whenever I didn’t have a girlfriend I was worse off.  She was happy when I was with Pansy back in fifth and sixth year – someone to keep me company.’

‘But I’m not lonely.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No.  I don’t have time to be lonely,’ snapped Ginny.  

‘Don’t be stupid.  Being lonely isn’t something you quill-in your daily planner.’

Ginny pushed her hair away from her face.  ‘When I’m lonely I make sure not to have sex.  I usually don’t when I’m drinking either because I don’t like having to make excuses as to why I’m sleeping with someone.  That’s what I did with us – excused it away and I didn’t like having to.  But when I’m lonely – people get too attached when they’re lonely so I make sure to stay away from sex when I’m feeling like that.’

‘Are you lonely today?’ asked Draco, his intakes of breath quickening.

‘No.’

‘Oh.’

‘Because I never have sex when I’m lonely ...’

‘But we didn’t have sex.’

Ginny shook her head, watching Draco’s reactions; his expressions stayed infuriatingly neutral.  ‘No,’ she said slowly.  ‘Not yet.’

‘Ah.  What happened to it being a one-time thing?’

‘D’you think you can only go one time tonight?’

Draco snorted.  ‘I can go more.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Do you need me to prove it to you?’

Ginny nodded.  ‘Yes ...’

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX

A/N: We’d like to thank **doraemon** for the lightning-fast beta!  Next chapter is half written, so look for it coming to a TQP near you!


	12. Chapter 12 : The Comfort

XXXXXXX

**Chapter Twelve: The Comfort**

XXXXXXX

Ginny smiled as she said it:  ‘Yes.’

Draco seemed to take it as a challenge, whether or not he could go more than once tonight.  He looked at her for a minute, his feet hesitating before he moved, taking a couple steps towards her.  His lifted his hand to her face, tucking her hair behind her ear.  His other hand came up to cup her face and tilt it up, bending his neck so he could kiss her.

At the first touch of their lips, Ginny knew this was nothing like last time.  Before, it had been fast, without any time to stop and think about what they were doing.  This time, Ginny knew what they were about to do and she was fine with it.  She was more than fine.  She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him closer.

Draco pulled his mouth away from hers and whispered in her ear, ‘Let’s go to your room.’

His breath was hot against her skin and sent shivers down her neck.  She nodded and pulled further away from him, taking his arm and walking down the hall.  There was a moment’s hesitation where she had to decide whether to take him to the spare bedroom again or to her own room.  She passed by the spare room and opened the door to hers.

Draco walked in behind her and she shut the door.  Immediately, he pinned her against the door, her hand still on the knob, still facing the wall.  She could feel his eyes on her back and she turned her head to look at him from over her shoulder.  His hands came around to her front, undoing her Healer robes.  He pushed them off her shoulders, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin of her arms.  She had on a sleeveless t-shirt and trousers, both of which felt heavy on her body and she wanted them off.  The pads of Draco’s thumbs were rough, but the touch felt anything but.  His fingers grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it up.  Ginny raised her arms to help as Draco took off the shirt and let it drop to the floor.  

His hands were on her hips, running up her sides, and stopping right underneath her breasts.  He lifted up her bra, his coarse thumbs brushing across her nipples.  She closed her eyes, nearly choking on her breath at the tingling sensation that went from her chest all the way down between her legs.

The hook of her bra was undone next and Draco pulled it down her arms, letting it land on top of her discarded shirt.  He brushed her ginger hair away from her shoulder, kissing the bare flesh, letting one hand come around to her front, covering her small breast.  He squeezed it gently and Ginny let out a small gasp.  She tightened her thigh muscles, thinking she might go mad if she wasn’t touched there soon.

‘Mmmm,’ Draco moaned against her skin.  Ginny felt him take her wand out of her back pocket before he let his hands fall to the buttons on her trousers; he undid them and pushed them over her hips, letting them fall down until they were around her ankles.  He did the same to her knickers and Ginny stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.  She was fully starkers but her skin felt hot, as though her blood was boiling inside her veins.

Lips came down to her shoulder again, raining kisses across her skin.  A hand crept down over her stomach, past her navel, and between her legs.  Ginny widened her stance slightly as the fingers parted her, lightly stroking her.  He didn’t seem to be trying to make her come, only make her twist and wriggle, half-strangled moans coming from her throat as she tried to retain her self-control.

Then, the fingers went away and Ginny was spun around until her back was against the door.  Draco sank to one knee.  Ginny had no time to process what was happening before he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder.  His mouth moved against her, his tongue entering her, his lips kissing her.

She felt the pool of electricity in her pelvis, a bundle of tension, continually building as Draco used his mouth.  Her hips began to move of their own accord, pushing towards Draco.  Her legs and feet weren’t supporting her; if it wasn’t for Draco, she’d have fallen over in a boneless heap on the floor.  

The tension mounted, growing in intensity.  Ginny closed her eyes, willing her body to come, needing the orgasm like she needed breath.  Then it happened – like an explosion between her legs, the sensations shooting through her body, ending in fingertips and toes.  She rode it out until her muscles couldn’t take it any more.  Draco lowered her leg and held Ginny’s hips.

‘Can you go to the bed?’ he asked huskily.

‘Hmm?’  Ginny was dimly aware of Draco waving her wand and muttering something, but she took the few steps to her bed, balancing on shaky legs.  

As she moved to the middle of her bed, Draco undressed.  She watched him, aware of him in her room, where she slept and changed clothes every day.  He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her, his eyes on her breasts.  His mouth went to one, his lips around her nipple, and he sucked on it, one of his hands going to her other breast.  Ginny was aware that Draco was doing everything and she was lying there, practically paralyzed.

Her body was still warm and tingly, but her brain was beginning to process basic thoughts again.  She wanted to feel Draco’s weight pressed against her, to feel his mouth covering hers.  With a tight grip, Ginny curled her fingers around Draco’s biceps and tugged him away from her breasts and towards her mouth.

When he kissed her his mouth had the flavour of cinnamon and there was a vague realization that he must have used magic to wash the taste of her away.  Her fingers knotted in Draco’s hair as she opened up her knees.

‘I need you,’ she said into his mouth.  ‘I want you inside me.  Now.’

It wasn’t a question or a plea.  It was simply a fact.  

Draco let his fingers ghost across her skin until they reached the apex of her thighs.  He found her and opened her, guiding himself into her.  She moaned at the feeling of being slightly stretched.  Lifting her hips, she tried to push into him so that he could go further in.  The tip of his erection rubbed against a place inside her that felt so good she couldn’t help but grind against him.

He lifted up one of her legs and hooked it over his shoulder.  Hardly able to help herself, Ginny’s eyes fluttered shut.  She had to force them open to look at Draco while he pushed into her.  The pace was slow, but deep, and Ginny ran her hands along Draco’s arms, gripping his thin biceps in her hands.

‘Look at me,’ she said.

Draco’s grey eyes met hers.  She licked her lips and he bent down to kiss her.  When he pulled away, he opened his eyes to look at her again.  They kept their gazes locked until Draco’s eyes slipped closed as he came, sucking in a deep breath and groaning.  Ginny felt the warmth flow through her and she slowed the grinding of her hips until Draco lowered her leg and slipped out.

Not sure what to say, Ginny stretched and rotated her hips, able to sense the phantom feel of Draco inside of her.  She turned over onto her stomach to try and settle into sleep, facing towards Draco.  He turned towards her, on his side, and rubbed his hand up and down her back.  

‘Blanket?’ he said with a yawn.  Ginny nodded and he drew the blanket up over them.

His hand rested on her lower back as she drifted into sleep.  They didn’t snuggle or cuddle; it wasn’t a grand gesture.  But it was comfort nevertheless.

XXXXXXX

Draco felt a stirring in his dreams.  He tried to keep wakefulness at bay, but it was tugging at him.  Sound filled his ears in a rush and while his eyes were still closed, he was awake.  His right arm was slung across the bed – the empty bed.  He cracked open an eyelid and through the dimness, he could see that the other side of the bed was empty.  There wasn’t any light shining through the windows, so Draco surmised it was still nighttime.  Not caring that he was completely naked, Draco got up from the bed and walked quietly down the short hallway.

He found Ginny in the kitchen, a spoon stirring a large cup full of steamy tea by magic.  She was at the breadbox, two pieces of wheat in her hand.

‘Oh,’ she said, looking slightly startled.  One hand clutched the blankets around her shoulders as she set the bread down on a plate.  ‘Did I wake you up?’

‘I think so.’

‘D’you want me to make you a sandwich?  I’ve turkey and ham in the icebox if you want to make yourself something.’

‘What’re you having?’

‘Peanut-butter and banana,’ replied Ginny.

‘I think I’ll take the turkey.’

They made their sandwiches in silence; the only sounds were of knives scraping the insides of mustard and peanut-butter jars and the occasional clanking of the spoon in Ginny’s tea.  Draco sat opposite Ginny at her rectangular kitchen table, the wood of the chair cold under his bare bum.

‘You looked bloody knackered earlier,’ said Draco, hating the silence.  After sharing a cell with only himself at Azkaban, he grew to hate the quiet.  ‘I thought you’d sleep through your alarm clock.’

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  Stress and nerves, most like.  I fell asleep all right, but lately if I wake up, I can’t get back to sleep.’

‘You wake up a lot?’

Ginny shrugged.  ‘Sometimes.  It’s all the stress.  I’ll take you to Harry’s flat before I have to go in to work so you can get some clean clothes.’

‘Right.’

Ginny put her half-eaten sandwich on her plate.  ‘I’m not as hungry as I thought.’  Her ginger hair fell around her face and she pushed it behind her ears.  ‘Can I ask you something?’

Draco nodded.

‘Where did you go when you left Hogwarts with Snape?’

‘Reliving the past again, I see.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Ginny, the tone of her voice boarding on defensive.

‘You ask me a lot of questions about before, when we were at school and before I was sent to prison.’

‘I’m curious.  You’re not the same Draco.’

‘I’m exactly the same,’ sighed Draco.  ‘Only older.’

‘You’re not the same.  The Draco I remember would have hexed me before he kissed me – or cast _Avada Kedavra_ first.  You were cruel and bought your way on the Quidditch team and bossed everyone around.’

‘Clearly, you don’t understand me.  Firstly, I didn’t buy my way onto the Quidditch team.  I caught the Snitch loads of times during games.  Secondly, if I wasn’t bound by a magical contract to practically do what Potter says, I’d still be bossy.’

‘But you’re helping to solve some very violent crimes.’

‘I’m only doing it because it got me out of gaol.’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘I don’t believe you.  I think you would have helped anyway.’

‘If the pay was right, perhaps.’

‘What about the kissing part?  At Hogwarts you would have sewn my lips together in some sort of twisted Dark magic before touching them.’

‘Like I said, I’m still the same person, only older.  Obviously, I’ve moved past hexing girls because they’re blood traitors.’

‘You murdered someone,’ argued Ginny.  ‘Would you still murder someone now?’

‘And now we’re back at the reasons I’m a convict.  I don’t really feel like retelling that story.’

‘Will you tell me where you went after you left with Snape, then?’

Draco nodded, taking the last bite of his sandwich and pushing his plate away.  ‘He took me to a house in a Muggle town somewhere in England.’

‘To stay?’

‘Until he got things straightened out with the Dark Lord, yes.  The house belonged to his father or his grandfather or something.  Then, I went on more missions for the Death Eaters.’

Ginny’s elongated sigh made Draco raise his eyebrows.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘I only had one mission, actually, after the whole debacle with Dumblefuck.’

‘Don’t say that!’ cried Ginny, her eyes flashing in anger.  ‘How dare you call him that!’

‘Calm down!’ snapped Draco.  ‘Bloody hell, what’s your problem?’

‘He’s dead because of you and you can’t even call him by his right name?’

‘He’s dead because Snape killed him, but all right.  I only had one mission after the disaster with Dumbledore.’

‘Thanks.’

Draco grunted.  He wasn’t about to apologise.  Ginny should know by now what kind of person he was.  He hadn’t really changed since Hogwarts; he didn’t like Dumbledore then and his opinion on the wizard hadn’t differed just because he was dead.

‘What was the mission?’

‘What?  Oh.  To find the book that writes down the names of all the witches and wizards as soon as they’re born.’

‘Oh.  Why is that useful?’

‘So the Dark Lord could have all the Mudbloods killed before they ever got their letters for school.’

‘That’s disgusting.  Did you get the book?’

‘No.’

‘What happened?’

Draco shook his head and looked away from Ginny.  ‘That’s probably a story for another time.’

‘Can I ask you something else?’

‘This isn’t going to be one of those “where do we stand now that we’ve fucked” questions, is it?’

Ginny sniggered. ‘I don’t really want to think about any of that.’

‘Good,’ said Draco, very relieved.  ‘What do you want to know, then?’

‘What did you want to be before you were arrested?’

‘ _Be_?  Are we talking metaphorically?’

‘No, literally.  Did you want to work for the Ministry or own your own antique store like Burke’s?’

Draco laughed to himself.  ‘I never really gave it much thought,’ he said honestly, feeling extremely exposed as he told Ginny this, even though he was sitting at her table naked.  ‘I thought I would be killed by the Dark Lord dozens of times.’  He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat.  ‘When I turned eighteen I was fucking ecstatic that I wasn’t dead.  Though I always wanted to play Quidditch.’

‘Professionally?’

Draco shrugged.  He looked at Ginny and noticed the corners of her mouth twitching.

‘What?’ he snapped.

‘You wanted to be a famous Quidditch player!’ she laughed.  

‘I don’t know about “famous” ...  What’s so bloody hilarious?’

‘ _You_ ,’ gasped Ginny between giggles.  ‘You are!  Here I thought I was having a torrid affair with a wizard with half a soul and you’ve been normal all this time!’

‘I’m not following.’  Draco didn’t miss the pleasant way Ginny’s chest bounced under the blankets she still had wrapped around her shoulders as she giggled.

‘You’re cold and arrogant – but you’re just like us!”

Draco sighed.  ‘Right.’

As Ginny’s laughter subsided, her expression suddenly turned serious.  ‘Draco ... what are we doing here?’

‘Eating.’

‘But you’re starkers—’

‘So are you.’

‘Exactly my point.’

‘Earlier made you feel better, didn’t it?’

Ginny nodded.

‘So let’s call it what it is.  Consolation or what have you.’

‘Comfort,’ said Ginny.  ‘I don’t want this to get complicated with, y’know, _feelings_ or anything.  If that happens, I think we should keep quiet and keep going on.  I don’t think I can handle any more stress.’

‘Feelings are stress?’

‘Yes, absolutely.  I don’t want this to get complicated,’ Ginny said again.  ‘This is comfort, a way to release stress, right?’

Draco nodded.  

‘Are you hard?’

Draco blinked.  ‘Pardon?  Er, no.’

Ginny pushed the blanket away from her shoulders and looked at him.  His eyes went from her face to her neck, down the slope of her shoulders and across to her breasts.

‘Not quite yet,’ he said.

She got up from her chair and walked over to him.  Swinging her leg over her lap, she straddled him, the warmth of her crotch against his.  Her hand snaked its way down and gripped him loosely, teasing him with soft strokes.

‘It’s not just the stress relief,’ she said.  ‘You know why else we can’t stop?’

‘No ... why?’

Ginny tugged on his earlobe with her teeth and whispered in his ear.  Her breath was hot and sent tingles down his spine that settled in his cock.  ‘Because this is some of the best sex I’ve ever had.’

‘First you want to never do it again and now you don’t want it to stop?’

‘Mmm,’ Ginny hummed against his neck.

Draco took her by the hips and drew her closer until she sunk down onto him, causing her hands to go around his neck.  He pushed up into her as she ground her hips.  

‘I don’t want to stop,’ said Draco.

Ginny looked at him, her hips still rotating in small circles.  ‘No?’

He shook his head.  ‘Keep moving your hips ... like that.’

Ginny smiled and Draco kissed the grin from her face.  He found it hard to concentrate on kissing her while he was buried deep inside her body.  She felt brilliant around him.

‘God, I love – _this_ ,’ he said, his lips against her neck.

Ginny laughed lightly and kissed his eyelids, his cheeks.  ‘Don’t come until I do.’  

He watched her hand go back down between their bodies.  As she fucked him, her finger began to rub at herself.  He watched their joined bodies, her hand.  Her muscles clenched around him, slowly at first, but faster as she approached her orgasm.  Then she shuddered and moaned, her legs shaking on either side of his hips.  

‘I love this, too,’ she said, but he barely heard her as he came, his orgasm pulled from his body.  His blood rushed loudly in his ears.  He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but he went slack still inside her, not daring to pull out until both their bodies calmed down.

They went back into Ginny’s room.  Draco heard Ginny’s breath even out and she stilled next to him.  He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up the next morning Ginny was next to him.  She blinked and yawned.

‘Morning,’ she said.

‘Mmm.’

‘I need coffee.  D’you want some?’

Draco nodded.

‘Come on, then.’  When Ginny’s feet hit the floor, she shivered.  ‘Merlin, it’s cold!’

Draco felt fine and eyed her backside as she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders again.  He walked behind her into the kitchen.  As her hands reached for the coffee pot, Draco grasped her arm and pulled her to him, kissing her mouth.

She looked slightly bewildered when they parted, but she smiled nevertheless.  Then her bewildered look turned to sudden panic.

‘Did you hear that?’

Draco nodded.  He had heard something all right, but couldn’t figure out what it was.  He went into the lounge and—

‘ _Shit!_ ’  He dropped to his hands and knees behind the sofa.  Harry’s head was sticking out of the fireplace!  ‘GINNY!’ whispered Draco sharply.  She looked at him curiously and he pointed to the fireplace.

‘Shit!’  Ginny rushed past the sofa towards the fireplace.  She cleared her throat.  ‘Er, morning, Harry.  I didn’t expect to see you until—’

‘She’s dead.’

‘What?’

‘That’s why I’m Floo’ing you this early.  I need you to get to St Mungo’s immediately!  Please, right now.’

‘Who’s dead?’

Harry let out a frustrated groan.  ‘Cecilia!  She died last night – or early this morning.  However you want to look at it, but she’s dead.’

XXXXXXX

**To Be Continued ...**

XXXXXXX


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